TWC: Rescue from the Outlands
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: When Princess Regina is kidnapped by Outlanders, Alice, Tarrant and Dafydd immediately rush to the rescue. Will they save her, or will Regina rescue them first? And is there more to these mysterious Outlanders than meets the eye?
1. Race to a Tea Party

**Warning**: This is a sequel. If you haven't read Book One, _Search for the Azure Princess_, please read that story first. Otherwise, you are going to be completely confused.

**Announcement**: Originally, I had thought that Regina's story would be fifteen or so chapters long. Then the story lengthened into a trilogy. Now, it's a series. Yep, that's right. You're getting Four Books and a Companion Story for the price of one plot! The plot for Book Three just got too dense and complicated for me to fit into one book, so I split it in half. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm ever going to finish this story…

**Author's Note**: Welcome to Book Two! I complained a lot while I was writing Book Two, but looking back on it… it's sad to say, but this is actually the simplest book in terms of plot. The whole concept of the book is pretty simple. You ready for a straight-up adventure romp, dear readers?

As I said from the very beginning of posting Book One, I apologize profusely for any character mangling that occurs within these pages that is due to my misunderstandings, failure to research, or ignorance. Character mangling due to the plot, I make no apologies for [though I do promise I will eventually fix everything I break- except the character deaths, I can't do much about those].

**Warnings**: Angst, danger, Madness [_lots_ of Madness], and eventual character deaths. Yes, deaths. As in plural, multiple occasions of death.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's morning dress [imagine silver and blue instead of green and black]: http: /www. bustledress. com/ aab/ contest/ entries/i. victorian. contest. 55. jpg  
>Lily's morning dress: http: media. vam. ac. uk/ vamembed/ filebrowser/ image/ ? image= thumbnails/ 3D fashion_ silk_ mantua_ gown_ 1760_ thumb. jpg & version= 130 x 130  
>Lily's Bear, Urso: http: mrsthordarson. edublogs. org/ files/ 2010/ 10/ polar- bear- big- ndr 7 fa. jpg  
>Regina's Panther, Sora [except Sora is white]: http: www. bigcat. com/ CZ 2/ panther 5. jpg  
>Regina's Tea Party dress: http: 29. media. tumblr. com/ tumblr_ lbt 1 pltVo 61 qawpp 5 o 1_ 500. Jpg  
>Alice's Tea Party dress [except in blue]: http: 25. media. tumblr. com/ tumblr_ lqvyzv 05 Ah 1 qcddvlo 1_ 500. Jpg  
>Alice's Tea Party shawl: http: www. 1860- 1960. com/ xa 6004t. jpg

**Original Character Face Claims**: Just to refresh your memory.

Regina Hightopp is portrayed by Evanna Lynch [with ginger curls and green eyes].  
>Princess Lily Palladia is portrayed by Zooey Deschanel.<br>Dafydd Nazar is portrayed by Kellan Lutz [a la the Twilight saga, and blue eyes].  
>Ioan Nazar is portrayed by Rufus Sewell.<br>King Kalen is portrayed by Patrick Dempsey [with a black beard].  
>Witzend the Cat looks like this bit of adorable: http: safeandsoundlostandfound. org/ s/ cc_ images/ cache_ 2260893004. jpg? t= 1313080049

**Overall Disclaimer**: This should be obvious, so I'm only going to say it once [any disclaimers in future chapters will cover specific details]. If you recognize it, I don't own it. This refers to material from either of the Disney movies, the SyFy miniseries, any books, or fanfictions. Everything except my own characters is owned by Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton, the Disney Corporation, and SyFy. If you think you've seen it in another fanfiction, I truly do apologize; I don't mean to steal any other author's idea, and if I did it was purely unintentional and coincidental. However, if you do know of other stories with similar ideas, _please_ tell me so I can give credit.

**Disclaimer**: Passaridae is the scientific family name for sparrow. Not the most imaginative of names, but I thought it was pretty.

Hogmanay and Guid Nychburris are both Scottish holidays; Hogmanay is their New Year's Eve celebration, and Guid Nychburris falls in mid-June. Regina's birthday, Hogmanay, falls on what would be Yule on an Aboveground calendar [ie, about December 21], meaning that this story takes place in what is our December. Though of course the weather follows an Underlandian logic, thank goodness.

My theories and ideas about the way Time works in Underland operate by the rules of Doctor Who, especially in regard to the idea of fixed versus flux points in time. So the purpose of a Cheshire Cat is to safeguard the fixed points, but Witzend is struggling with the flux points, because she considers them to be integral to bringing the fixed points about.

**Special Thanks**: Many thanks to my lovely beta, Thirteen Thorns, for looking over this chapter and reassuring me that all is- so far at least- well!

* * *

><p>Her Royal Highness Regina Miraget Hightopp, the Azure Princess of Witzend, smiled to herself as she walked through the marble halls of the White Castle of Marmoreal. Early afternoon sunshine spilled through the many glass windows set high in the walls, filling the marble hallway with light and warmth as Regina left the library, which housed the historical, political, philosophical, and all other annals of all Underland. Finally free…<p>

"I thought you'd never get out of there," came a low, teasing voice from just behind her.

Regina paused and turned, a faint smile of greeting on her face. Dafydd Nazar and his warriors, the Hassasseen, had once been allied to Ilosovic Stayne, the former Red Knave, who had attempted a takeover of Crims. Six months ago, Regina had defeated Stayne in battle, killing him and claiming his crown for herself. In so doing, those who had made alliances with Stayne now found themselves loyal to Regina. Regina had claimed Dafydd and his men for herself, offering their clan asylum in Crims in exchange for their loyalty and services as her bodyguards.

For the last six months, the Hassasseen- whom Regina had renamed the Fearail, the Outlandish word for courageous- had served her. While at first they had kept their distance from her, they were now extremely loyal to her, devoted and clever soldiers. Where in the beginning they had served her out of duty, in deference to their commander, now they served her out of loyalty.

Dafydd in particular had become her shadow. Regina had charged Dafydd with becoming her Ace of Hearts when she took her crown, a position which would make him the commander of her armies and her Champion. The only time he left her side was when she was safely ensconced in Marmoreal's library, attending to her lessons; during those hours he would be outside, training with his men. At all other times, though, he was always just one step behind her, constantly watching.

They had held each other at a distance, at first; for all their grand titles of Princess and Protector, they had been strangers. But eventually, Dafydd had softened, opening up to her one night during a wild Wonderlandian thunderstorm. Since then, they had become far less Princess and Protector, and much more friends.

"And if I hadn't?" she asked. "You wouldn't even have noticed. You would have just stayed out there training until you passed out."  
>"Or needed tea," he said, a faint grin on his lips. "I would've noticed you were missing eventually, though. When I realized I wasn't hearing humming wherever I went."<br>Regina scoffed. "I don't hum all the time." At Dafydd's silently raised eyebrow, she grinned. "Alright, perhaps I do."  
>"Aye, you do," Dafydd nodded. "When are we leaving?"<br>"Soon," she replied airily. "After my brain's revived from the torture it just underwent."  
>"We'll have to hurry if we want to make it before sundown," he commented.<br>She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You worry too much."  
>"That's my job, remember?" he shot back, with a ghost of a smile.<br>"And you're very, _very_ good at it," she replied.

She gathered the skirts of her gown in her hands as she walked ahead of Dafydd, her pace only one step away from skipping. Not that it would be easy to skip in this dress; it was heavy, and even though it wasn't corseted, the bodice was still stiff, the bustle and train of the skirt more for beauty than function. But Regina didn't mind; it was a beautiful gown. Ice blue silk with silver lace at the shoulders, the décolletage, the flounces of the skirt and bustle. The dress highlighted Regina's figure, her collarbones and shoulders, her porcelain complexion and her red-gold tresses. Designed by her da, of course, because he lived to spoil her.

Regina grinned as she passed a mirror, one hand reaching up to resettle her Hat atop her ginger curls. Of all the dresses, hats, and jewelry her da had created, her favorite was her Hat. She wore it with practically everything; incongruous to the rest of her wardrobe perhaps, but an essential reminder of who she was. She had spent eighteen years of her life believing herself to be Jane Ascot, the foundling ward of Lord and Lady Ascot. But she wasn't orphaned, misfit Jane Ascot; she was Regina, the Azure Princess of Witzend and a Hightopp to boot. The Hat was whimsical, like herself. Her athair Tarrant Hightopp, a true master of his craft, had made this Hat for her, before she was even born, and it was still as perfectly a Regina Hat as it had been the day he made it. Someday, she'd have to ask him how he Knew what a Hat should look like…

"Gigi!"

Regina turned, a smile on her face as her cousin came barreling down the hallway, a blur of airy white fabric with heavy gold embroidery. Really, given who her mother was, the White Princess should have been more graceful and delicate. Though truth be told, she was perfectly capable of being just as willowy as the White Queen when she wanted to be. But usually, Lily Palladia Adamas preferred to stride, charge, or run. The vivacious Princess had become Regina's closest friend in the last year; they had bonded over shared high spirits and love for adventure and the perks and pressures of being Crown Princesses, each destined to sit upon a throne as Sovereign someday.

Lily grinned as she caught up to Regina, batting her wide skirts out of the way as she threaded her arm through her cousin's. They made a strange picture- Lily in the white, Versailles-esque style preferred by the women of the White Court; Regina in the blue, 1870s-ish fashion championed by her mother the Blue Queen. Regina laughed, helping Lily resettle her frothy skirts before they continued down the hallway at a more sedate pace, Dafydd keeping a watchful eye over them.

"Why have I not seen you outside today? It's absolutely beautiful; it's criminal to be inside on a day like this. Have you been in lessons all morning?" Lily asked, sounding scandalized.  
>Regina nodded, rolling her green eyes. "Protocol and etiquette with Duchess Blanche," she grimaced. "At the same time as history with Passaridae."<br>"Oh, you poor thing," Lily said sympathetically. "Books atop your head and all?"  
>"Three," Regina confirmed. "And while I was trying to keep them on my head, Passaridae expected me to remember the name of every member of the Adamas family since their founding."<br>Lily made an outraged noise. "I can't even remember all of that, and they're my family!" she exclaimed. "Wouldn't it make more sense for you to study the Royal Family of Witzend?"  
>Regina raised an eyebrow. "What, you mean the whole 27 or so years since your mother created the throne for mine?"<br>"Exactly," Lily grinned. "And don't forget the history of the Hightopps. That'll take you all the way back to Underland's founding."

In the year since Regina's return to Wonderland, she had been immersed in lessons, trying to learn in a few months everything that Lily had been studying her entire life. The history of Underland, the protocols of the White and Blue Courts, the arts of a ruling queen, general etiquette and deportment. It had been grueling, but Regina had been determined to prove herself a true princess of Underland.

In order to facilitate Regina's education, Mirana had proposed a plan whereby Regina spent half of each ten-day week in Marmoreal, learning the history of Underland, the etiquette, and of course her Study of Tea under the tutelage of Passaridae, a bookish and rather demanding Sparrow. The other half of the week, Regina was in Witzend, learning statesmanship and being with her parents [well, her da at least].

"What have you been up to, while I was being tortured by a sadistic Sparrow?" Regina asked.  
>Lily grimaced. "Oh believe me, I've been suffering just as much as you have."<br>"Ah," Regina giggled, nodding. "Your sisters' dancing lesson."  
>"Exactly," Lily nodded.<br>"I don't see what's so horrible about it, all you have to do is look pretty and demonstrate the steps for them," Regina said.  
>"Obviously you've never tried to dance with a Pig," Lily said.<br>Regina laughed. "Better than a Fish."  
>"I suppose so," Lily groused.<br>"Come now, Lily, don't be cross," Regina said. "You know you love showing off for your sisters."  
>"I would rather be riding," Lily replied. "When do you leave for Witzend?"<br>"Soon," Regina said. "Da's hosting a Tea Party, I promised him I'd be there."  
>"Cutting it close, aren't you?" Lily asked, looking at the position of the sun. "It's already luncheon."<br>Regina shrugged. "Unlike my da, I'm on good terms with Time. I should be fine."  
>"Especially if you have a cousin or two to race with," Lily nodded.<br>"Are you volunteering?" Regina asked.  
>"Well, if you're accepting…" Lily grinned.<p>

The princesses walked outside, into the spacious and beautiful gardens, which were warm and colorful even in winter. Instead of killing off living things, like it did Above, the snow simply lay over everything, like a layer of powdered sugar. It wasn't even cold, and it was delicious to the taste. Following the sounds of laughter and music, they found Queen Mirana and King Kalen seated upon a blanket on the ground under the shade of one of Mirana's beloved cherry trees, laughing and watching the frolicking of their younger children. Their youngest sons, twins Draven and Gareth, were playing a game of Tag with Aurora, while Nerissa sat chattering with one of the Pawns on guard duty and Nerissa sang with the flowers.

"There are my lovelies!" Mirana said upon spotting Lily and Regina, smiling.  
>"Hello, Aunt Mirana," Regina smiled, bending down to kiss Mirana's cheek while Lily dropped down next to her father.<br>"You've finished your lessons?" Mirana asked.  
>"Finally," Regina nodded. "I've been at it since seven o'clock this morning!"<br>"And you must hurry back to Witzend before Brillig," Mirana finished. "You are not overtired?"  
>"No, I'll be fine," Regina said.<br>"Mother, may I go with Gigi?" Lily asked. "I haven't been to a Tea Party with Uncle Tarrant in _weeks_!"  
>"Yes, sweetling," Mirana smiled. "You can come back with Regina in a few days."<br>"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you," Regina said. "I won't be here next week. Da is taking me to Hightopp Hill for my birthday. The Clubs have finally finished the High House."

After months of wheedling on Regina's part, following years of pleading on Alice's and Mirana's, Tarrant had finally consented to return to Hightopp Hill, to restore the damage done by the Jabberwocky so many years ago.

When Regina had first fallen into Underland via Looking Glass, she had been told by Absolem that it was her task to find the Azure Princess; rather an ironic statement, given what Regina now knew about herself. In an effort to complete this quest, Regina had gone to Hightopp Hill; she had been allowed to look at the Oraculum, and the scroll had showed the princess there. The Princess had failed to appear at the Hill [or rather, she had been there, but Regina hadn't yet realized it], but it hadn't been a complete loss; Regina had been introduced to the Music of the Hightopps, the magic that had bound the Hightopp clan to Iplam and to each other.

After hearing the Music of the Hightopps, Regina hadn't been able to forget it. Now that she knew who she was, she wanted to hear the fields of Iplam resound with the beautiful Music of her ancestors. And Tarrant had been forced to admit, he did want to restore his family's holdings, even if he, Alice and Regina were the only ones who would be able to enjoy it. So Alice had sent her army of Clubs to work, tearing down the last of the ruined buildings and clearing the field, while Tarrant drew up plans to restore the ancestral home of the Hightopp lairds, the High House.

"I cannot wait to see it," Mirana smiled. "Will everything be ready for the Hogmanay?"  
>"Knowing my da? Unlikely," Regina laughed. "We <em>will<em> have a Guid Nychburris, though. I don't care what I have to do to bribe him."  
>Mirana laughed. "You are just as stubborn as your mother. I have no doubt you'll host a spectacular Guid Nychburris. Are you going to stop through Crims on your way back here?"<br>"Yes," Regina nodded. "Leferidae wants me to come see how they're progressing with the castle. I can't believe it's half-built already!"

The leonine Leferidae, Duke of Tenniel, was acting as Regina's chatelain in Crims. While Regina was being prepared for her role as Queen of Hearts, Leferidae was directing her future subjects in their labors to rebuild the capital city. Under his direction, the laborers had torn down the ruins of the former Red Queen's castle, Salazen Grum, and begun rebuilding. Once the castle was ready for her, Regina would be officially crowned, and begin her reign as the Queen of Crims.

Lily shrugged. "That's Time in Underland for you."  
>Mirana smiled. "Everyone is eager for you to take up your throne. But that is a worry for another Day. When do you leave for Witzend?"<br>"Almost immediately," Regina replied. "I really only came out here to say fairfarren. I'll have to hurry to change if I want to be home by Brillig, as Lily and Dafydd keep reminding me." Leaning forward, she kissed both Mirana and Kalen on the cheek. "I'll see you soon, Aunt Mirana, Uncle Kalen," she grinned before standing and brushing off her skirts. "Fairfarren, all!" she called to her cousins, before heading back inside to change.

* * *

><p>It took a few hours to make the journey between Marmoreal and Witzend. Had they been walking, it would have been a full day's journey. Fortunately, Lily's Bear Urso and Regina's Panther Sora loved running long-distance. They raced most of the way, laughing as the wind whipped their hair about. The Fearail rode ahead and behind, hurling jokes and teasing insults back and forth as they raced through the countryside.<p>

Finally, they passed through the palace gates. The Animals walked themselves to the stables to be untacked and rubbed down while the cousins hurried into the blue marble of the Cerulean Castle. Without needing any direction, they each took off for their chambers- Lily having a permanent apartment of her own, since she visited Regina so often.

With a happy sigh, Regina walked into her luxurious chambers, stripping out of her riding clothes while she moved. Dafydd stayed outside to respect her privacy, standing guard at her doorway. She wished she had time for a bath, but one look at the clock on her mantelpiece revealed it was nearly Brillig. Lateness for tea was one trait Regina did not share with Alice; she was much more like her da when it came to tea. Thankfully, her maid Clover had laid out a dress for her. Like the gown she'd worn to lessons this morning, it was ice blue. However, in deference to the slight chill in the air [as winters in Witzend were a bit more harsh than they were in Marmoreal], this dress had sleeves to the elbow. As an added bonus, it wasn't quite as stiff or heavy with embroidery as the morning dress was. Regina hummed to herself as she slid her feet into dainty slippers and caught her hair back in a bandeau, grabbing a sun hat and pinning it onto her head while walking into the hall.

"There you are!" Lily exclaimed, sliding her arm through Regina's. "I thought you were never coming out!"  
>Regina laughed. "I've only been gone a few minutes!"<br>"Yes, well, a few minutes is an eternity when you're hungry," Lily retorted, leading the way outside.

The gardens of Marmoreal were white in theme, and perfectly ordered. The gardens of the Blue Royals, by contrast, were a riot of color, and only one step away from being untamed. Nestled in the center of the garden was an elegantly appointed tea table, with spotless white linens and mismatched [but whole] china. Regina grinned to herself; she loved her da's Tea Parties. He threw them at least once a week, to welcome and entertain any dignitaries or guests. No business was discussed, of course; it was purely pleasure.

Tarrant sat at the head of the table, enthroned in a wingback armchair Alice had ordered specially made for him upon their return to Berserka. Alice herself was seated to Tarrant's right, in a similarly elegant armchair. Unlike Tarrant, however, Alice was warmly bundled in a thick shawl over her long-sleeved gown, her cane resting against the table.

Regina observed her parents as Lily raced ahead to sit at her place and dig into the finger sandwiches. For eighteen years, she had wished more than anything to find her parents, to put her family back together. When she'd come to Wonderland, she'd found her family, but it was nothing like she'd been expecting. They had lived together now for six months, but they weren't a family yet. Oh, Regina had an athair, all right; she was utterly and completely devoted to her da. It was Alice that Regina didn't get along with.

Regina had been horrified to learn that eighteen years ago, after Regina's disappearance from Underland, Alice had banished Tarrant from Berserka, blaming him for the loss of their child. For eighteen years, instead of supporting each other in their grief, Tarrant had languished in the Tulgey Wood at the March Hare's tea table, while Alice had retreated to the shadows of Marmoreal, to be cared for by Mirana. For eighteen years, Witzend had fallen into ruin while the Blue Queen remained lost in her Madness.

Six months ago, Regina had been restored to her parents after the battle against Stayne. Tarrant had come alive after the battle; Mirana had confided to Regina that she hadn't seen him look so young and happy in years. Alice, however, had Aged. She had attempted to take her place as Champion for the battle, and Underland had rejected her claim. Underland had caused an earthquake on the battlefield, in which Alice fell and hit her head. When she'd awoken in her chamber in Marmoreal, she had spent several days in solitude. When she finally allowed Mirana and Tarrant into the room, they had discovered that almost overnight, Alice had Aged. There were wrinkles around her eyes now, silver streaking through the pale gold of her hair. She looked older than Tarrant now, and she needed a cane to walk.

Tarrant, of course, was worried about His Alice; his tension showed in every line of his figure, his anxiety revealed in the way he so carefully provided Alice with her tea cup, solicitously leaning toward her to readjust her shawl when it slipped off her shoulder. The charming domestic scene was marred by the faint undertone of tension and grief, and Regina sighed in resignation. This was the home she had returned to, after eighteen years of dreaming; hardly the happily ever after she had planned on.

Mirana, after making a thorough examination of Alice, had announced that Alice's Aging was primarily psychosomatic. Alice was unsettled in her mind; once she had sorted herself out, she would recuperate and recover, becoming youthful once again. Regina wished Alice would get on with it; she hated seeing her da worry so.

She shook her head clear; now was not the Time to be having these Thoughts. Her gaze turned down the table, to the rest of the guests. Mallymkun and Thackery were there, juggling and throwing things as always, to the consternation of the portly man seated two chairs down from Alice [judging by his brown wool clothes, he was from Snud]. Sir Uilleam was there, dignified as always as he engaged the Snudian diplomat's wife in conversation. Lily was already on her second cup of tea, chattering with Alice's lady of honor, Marchioness Gwen. Smiling, Regina floated forwards, taking her seat to Tarrant's left, while Dafydd quietly took up a vantage point beneath a magnolia tree.

"Welcome home, ye wee li'l boy!" Tarrant grinned, leaning over and lifting up Regina's hat to kiss her forehead.  
>"Thank you, Da," Regina smiled.<p>

Smiling, Tarrant motioned to one of the fish butlers, who stepped forward bearing a silver tray. The Fish set the tray down before Regina, who grinned upon seeing the packets of loose tea ingredients, the pot, and two teacups.

"Come then, my Sugar Cube, and show me what you've learned this week," Tarrant said, patting Alice's hand before angling himself to face his daughter.  
>Regina nodded, leaning forward to examine the packets. "It was the differences between fresh and roasted ingredients this week," she explained, deftly adding a pinch of roasted firefly to a generous sprinkling of cinnamon, cumin and cardamom in the tea ball.<br>"That's quite a fiery brew you're making," Tarrant observed.  
>"I thought it might warm Mathair up," Regina replied, not looking up at her mother as she added a tiny drop of honey and poured hot water over the tea ball.<p>

Tarrant couldn't keep his heart from lifting in hope as Regina said that. It pained him to know that mathair and bairn were at sixes and sevens; he had hoped that returning home would help them reconcile. But clearly not; Alice was still distant, and Regina was still resentful. They were always civil to each other, but it was the chill civility with which one treated a stranger. Alice and Regina were flesh and blood; for them to be so utterly indifferent to each other hurt Tarrant.

Well, Alice wasn't indifferent to Regina, Tarrant amended. It was clear as day to him that Alice's health problems were tied in to her regret and yearning for her daughter. It was Regina who was indifferent; if Alice hadn't made any efforts to forge a relationship, neither had Regina. Tarrant was so sure that if they were to resolve their differences, Alice would begin to get well again. But he had no idea how to force them to confront each other. And so Alice remained sickly, and Regina remained motherless. Such a sad, silly situation, so easily solved…

"How were your lessons this week?" he asked, more to distract himself than anything.  
>"Same as always," Regina replied, setting the tea before Alice before making another cup for herself and Tarrant. "Passaridae is a slave driver and Duchess Blanche is tyrannical, my neck aches, but my posture is now perfect and I almost remember the Adamas family tree."<br>Tarrant blinked, confused. "A tree? The Adamasi don't have a family tree. Well, they have Mirana's cherry trees, but I don't think those could properly be considered _family_ trees, since Mirana planted those after she was banished and they have nothing to do with her family but rather her love of beauty and order and I'm quite sure she doesn't consider the trees family, per se-"  
>"Tarrant!" Alice broke in, at the same time as Regina laughed, "Da!"<br>"Thank you," Tarrant croaked. "I'm fine, Teacup," he said, squeezing Alice's fingers.

Regina smiled fondly at her da. Oh, he was Mad, but wonderfully so; not like the Badness. When Regina had been reunited with her parents at the Chessboard, Tarrant had been sunk in the depths of his very worst and blackest Madness. Lost as he was, he had attacked her, believing her to be an illusion of his mind. Thank the Fates, his Madness had broken, and they had been reunited. In the past months, that frightening Madness had not returned; even in Tarrant's worst fits of temper, he kept the Madness at bay. Regina was quite thankful for that; while she knew that Madness was in the Hightopps' blood, if she never saw the Badness again, it would be too soon.

"I only meant I've had to memorize every family member of the Adamasi since the founding of Underland," she informed her father, pulling Herself from her own Musings.  
>"Oh dear, that would be confusing," Tarrant frowned. "I don't think that tea you have is nearly strong enough to recover from that."<br>"Then it is a good thing we're at a Tea Party," Regina said. "You can ply me with tea until you're satisfied I'm better."  
>"Och aye, th' wee besom needs 'er tea!" Thackery exclaimed, throwing a teapot down the length of the table.<p>

Tarrant deftly caught it without spilling a drop, and leaned over to refill both Alice's and Regina's cups. Regina glanced to the left, catching Dafydd's eye. She grinned, barely containing a giggle; he shook his head at Thackery's antics, a faint smile playing about his lips before his eyes darted away again. She had to smile as she watched him; always on guard, always looking for danger. It was a side effect of having lived in the Outlands all his life, she surmised. From what she had learned about the Outlands, and from the stories some of her guard had told her, there had never been a moment when her warriors hadn't been in danger of attack or ambush.

Her gaze unfocused, her smile fading as she sank further into Thought. One month ago, Mirana had sent some of her soldiers into the Outlands to find the Fearails' families and safely conduct them to Crims, where they would be made Regina's citizens. Dafydd and his men had given the Pawns a rough idea of where to look for the nomadic tribe known as the Nazari, warning that the tribe might have already moved on. The Pawns had sent weekly updates… until one Day, all communication ceased. The Fearail had attempted to remain optimistic, to say that perhaps their clan was just being difficult to track, but as the Days passed and the silence continued, they had grown increasingly uneasy. Had something happened to their tribe, Regina wondered? Did Dafydd have a family? Parents, siblings… a wife, children? Should she allow her guard to return over the mountains to search for their tribe?

A hand on her arm pulled her from her Thoughts. Regina blinked, shaking her head slightly to refocus. She found the hand belonged to her da, who was watching her with a knowing, sympathetic look on his face. Of all people, Tarrant knew best what it meant to be trapped within your mind. Smiling her thanks for his pulling her back to Reality, Regina glanced over at Dafydd again. Sure enough, his eyes were on hers, his face painted in concern. She shot him a smile, assuring him that she was alright, before being distracted by Thackery breaking into a rousing rendition of _The Walrus and the Carpenter_. Complete with dancing atop his chair. She smiled to herself; ah, it was wonderful to be Home again.

* * *

><p>Deep in the bowels of the earth was nestled a cave. Within the cave was contained a crack; a break in the Veil of Reality. Were one to peek through this Veil, one would see the Reality behind all realities; the patterns of Time and Destiny revealed. It would be a beautiful vision… for the moment before one was driven insane by the complexity and constant changing of the pattern.<p>

With the softest breath of sound and a small puff of blue mist, the Cheshire Cat, the Guardian of Underland and Keeper of the Cave of Certitude, translocated into the cavern. He licked his chops, yawning, as he glanced around the cave. His gaze fixed upon the Crack by instinct, checking to be sure all was well, when an abnormality caught his eye.

A young Cat sat on the stalagmite that supported the crack in the Veil. She didn't move a muscle or even so much as twitch her tail; all of her focus was on the Veil, and the Realities that lay behind it. Then, she leaned forward, not even blinking, so transfixed was she by whatever it was she was seeing. A quick translocation brought him directly behind his grandkitten, ready to support her as she swayed, nearly toppling backwards.

"Easy, Pup," he cautioned her, wrapping himself around her and translocating them to the ground.  
>"I'm fine," she replied, her voice faraway and faint.<p>

The Cheshire Cat shook his head with a small sigh. For the last six months, he had been teaching and training his grandkitten Witzend, preparing her for the day when she would take over his duties as the Cheshire Cat. Underland Herself had long since predicted that a time of great change was coming; a new age would begin, when the old would be swept away and the new ushered in. Witzend would be part of that change; would in fact be the one to usher in many of the new things. So he had been diligently training her in the ways of the patterns of Destiny, teaching her how to determine when to interfere and when to let the humans muddle through on their own.

"You've been looking through the Veil quite a lot lately," he commented.  
>Witzend lay on her stomach, resting her head on her paws as she closed her blue-green eyes. "Something is coming," she replied. "Some great danger."<br>"Is it so great a danger?" Cheshire asked, raising one eyebrow. "I've told you before, Pup, you care too much. What is coming is necessary. These things must happen in order for the future to proceed."  
>"You told me once, that the birth of the little prince <em>would<em> happen, no matter what else," Witzend said, looking up at her grandsire. "But how can he be born if my mistress should die?"  
>"Then Time will be rewritten," Cheshire said bluntly. "As long as Regina lives, the prince will be born. If she dies, he will never Be. Simple as that. You should take care, Pup. Do not become so focused on one insignificant piece of the future that you ignore the larger pattern. Far more important than the little prince is the growth they will all experience on this journey. In fact, this journey is integral to the child's existence. So the journey must be your focus, not the child."<p>

That said, the Cheshire Cat disappeared with a swish of his tail. Left alone in the Cave, Witzend sighed, closing her eyes against the vision she had seen through the Veil. Her grandsire was forever telling her not to _care_ so much. The Cheshire Cat wasn't supposed to care; he or she was only supposed to move and manipulate, to push the chess pieces into the appropriate places on the board.

Witzend understood her grandsire's point, she did. But she didn't agree with his policy of laissez-faire. He believed that the Cat should only interfere to ensure that fixed points in Time were safeguarded. Events like the Frabjous Day, the Retiuni Day, the future War of the Colors… those were the events that the Cheshire Cat concerned himself with. But what about all the other Days, all the other, smaller events that played into the big ones? What about the threads that had to tie the players together, the bonds that must be forged? If Witzend didn't ensure that Regina lived, how could she ensure that the child was born? What was the point in safeguarding the fixed points, if they weren't for the greatest possible good of all involved?

Someday, she was going to be the Cheshire Cat. And when she was, there would be no more laissez-faire, no more letting things sort themselves out. When she was the Cat, Witzend vowed, she would be sure that the futures she brought about were the best of all possible futures. Because what was the point of anything, if it didn't make Underland a better and a brighter place?


	2. Homecoming

**Author's Note**: Good Lord, is it annoying when your villain tries to humanize himself. Yes of course I realize that it makes for a better story when there is no clear wrong or right, but… I didn't count on sympathizing with Book Two's villain. I just wanted him to be evil, so I didn't have to regret anything I'll need to write. But no, he's trying to make me understand him. I blame his play-by, personally; I can't hate that face. I also blame the fact that he's related to Dafydd. This means that he is also a ridiculous, stubborn Outlander, and a huge thorn in my side [whom I love dearly].

During the editing process, this chapter picked up about three pages' worth of additions. This is also where we get introduced to what I consider to be the main plot of Book Two. Yeah, I don't think Regina is the main character of this Book; she's really more of a plot device [you'll see what I mean in a chapter or so]. I consider this book to be all about Dafydd and his issues. Of which there are many; many more than I thought when he first inserted himself into my plot. Ridiculous, stubborn Outlander…

**Original Character Face Claims**: Just to remind you, Niall Nazar is portrayed by Jackson Rathbone. Taran Nazar is portrayed by James Franco.

**Dress Note**: Remove all spaces.

Hightopp tartan pattern: http: /business. virgin. net/ flyfishing. flies/ scotland-Maclaren. html  
>Regina's Hightopp tartan dress: http: www. weddingdresses. org. uk/ wp- content/ uploads/ 2010/ 08/ tartan- wedding- dress. jpg  
>Regina's half-cloak: http: cache. wists. com/ thumbnails/ 1/ a 4/ 1 a 4 a 6 f 5 bdc 90 e 389 affacf 8 ddb 336 bf 4- med

**Music Note**: Just to remind you, the Song of the Hightopps is supposed to sound like _River Flows In You_ by Yiruma, on endless repeat.

**Outlandish Note**: As always, the Outlandish brogue Tarrant and Regina slip into comes courtesy of whoohoo. co. uk. The bits of Scots Gaelic, which are standing in for Outlandish, are courtesy of lexilogos. com.

Mo laoch: my champion  
>Dearbadan-de: butterfly<p>

**Disclaimer**: As I've found it fiendishly difficult to get a good visual on Tarrant's actual tartan, I made the executive decision to blithely ignore canon and choose my own colors. The Hightopp plaid is now based off that of Clan MacLaren.

**Special Thanks**: Thanks to my lovely beta Thirteen Thorns for looking over this chapter for me! I was worried about Dafydd in this chapter [just assume that I'll be worried about him for the duration of this entire Book, actually], and she reassured me that he's okay and makes sense. Now there's a first…

* * *

><p>The Outlands hadn't always been so forbidding a place. Once, the region had been known as Otherside, and had been a part of Underland, a land of rich plains, mighty rivers, and lush forests. The mountains had been mined for precious minerals, the plains used to breed animals and food and to support the mystics and rustics who lived there and sought to join with the Spirit of Underland. The land had never been an organized kingdom, though its few inhabitants [Animal and Human] had been friendly to the Five Kingdoms. It had been a peaceful alliance based on the principle of live and let live.<p>

But Otherside had been cursed generations ago by a High King of Underland. Stripped of its sustaining magic by the vengeful King, the land had been blasted, withering and dying. The mountains' riches had disappeared, the plains had dried out and turned to a vast desert, the riverbeds dried and became forbidding canyons. Even the sky had been cursed, turning a dull blood red. And when the land became desolate and barren, the inhabitants became twisted and heartless, as well. The beautifully singing Avian clans became Sirens and Harpies. The peaceful, philosophical Centaurs became heartless, emaciated warriors. Even the passive, sentient Plants became heartless and suspicious of others, if they didn't turn completely mute and without thought. Instead of a peaceful land that beckoned to hermits and those seeking Truths, the Otherside- now called the Outlands- became a place of punishment, where the rulers of Underland would condemn their prisoners to banishment and certain death.

However, not all of the banished died. Some had survived, to huddle together and eke out a mean existence from the rocks. The landscape of the Outlands was dotted with crude city-states, ruled by a chieftain or warrior-queen who cared for their small clan and did not welcome strangers. Animals formed alliances or waged wars with Humans over resources and land. And in the depths of the wild lands dwelt a nomadic clan who had not only survived, but flourished.

The Nazari had not always dwelled in the Outlands. Like many of the Outlanders, their ancestors had been banished by a long-dead High King; the very King, in fact, who had cursed the Outlands in the first place. Unlike many of the Outlanders, the Nazari had flourished in their new home. They were great craftsmen and artisans; in their native tongue _nazar_ meant "artist." They had become warriors only to survive in the Outlands, when the choice was either to become a warrior or be killed by hostile Animals or rival clans. And as warriors, they had thrived.

For many long generations, the ceann-fine, or chieftain, of the Nazari had sheparded the clan towards a single goal: returning to Underland. Every Nazari child was taught about Underland from the moment they drew their first breath; they learned about the Five Kingdoms, the history, the languages. Most of all, the children were taught about the corrupted Adamasi, the ancestral High Kings who ruled from Marmoreal.

It had been an Adamasi King who had banished the Nazari from their home. The Nazari had long been the rulers of a region of Underland that in their language was called Tearmunn. For a timeless time, they had lived in peace, content to pursue their various artisan crafts. Then the High King had begun to wage war with kingdoms beyond the Crimson Sea. He had demanded that the Nazari pay him tribute, crafting weapons for him, and to join his army as soldiers. When they had refused, they had been exiled, their lands taken and added to the High King's properties. Ever since that black Day, the Nazari had been preparing to return home, and to take their revenge against the family that had branded them traitors and outlaws and to reclaim the land that belonged to them.

In a palatial tent made of durable leather, the current ceann-fine of the Nazari stood behind a portable desk, his wavy blond-haired head bent over a map of Underland and the Outlands. He was dressed simply, in an undyed tunic and brown breeches, his feet encased in practical leather boots lined with fleece. A leather belt hung around his waist, holding two throwing daggers in their sheathes. He wore leather cuffs around his wrists, and around his neck was the mark of his rank; a leather thong, on which was strung a single button- gold, with the Nazari's symbol embossed upon it. Every Nazar had a button somewhere on their person, claiming them as members of the clan, but only the ceann-fine wore the gold button. Legend had it that the button had come from the coat of the very first Nazari ceann-fine, back in the days when their people were first claimed by Tearmunn.

Niall had come to the chieftainship early in his life. His father had been a powerful ceann-fine, a forward-thinker. Conrad Nazar had formed alliances with some of the city-states closest to the Underlandian borders, and had made sure that his warriors were top-notch. It had been Conrad who had formed the Hassasseen, the troupe of elite soldiers who served to protect and defend the rest of the clan. Unfortunately, Conrad had been killed by a rogue Centaur while out on a hunting trip. Niall had been thirteen years old, and as the eldest son it fell to him to become the ceann-fine.

Niall had dedicated his entire life to the Nazari, to ensuring that they returned to their ancestral lands, that they fulfilled all of Conrad's hopes for his family. He and his two brothers had devoted their lives to achieving Conrad's plans, and now it was finally time to make his da's dreams come true.

Niall had good reason to wage this war, besides the traditional reasons of taking revenge against the Adamasi and reclaiming the Nazari homeland. Niall had allied his clan with the Red King, an outlawed knight from Crims. In exchange for the services of the Hassasseen, Ilosovic Stayne had promised to restore the Nazari to their homeland, sworn that Niall would be his equal as a king. Niall had not trusted the Red King to uphold his end of that bargain; he knew Stayne would continue to look upon the Nazari as his own personal army, and he would try to turn Niall into a client king if he didn't kill Niall outright. However, the promise of Tearmunn had been too good to give up. So Niall had sent his second-in-command and tanaiste, Dafydd, and the Hassasseen to the Red King in a gesture of goodwill.

And according to the Crows, disaster had struck. Stayne had been killed in battle against Underland's current Adamasi tyrant, slain by a wee scrap of a girl who claimed to be the Azure Princess of Witzend. The High Queen had upheld the chit's claim, granting her the Red King's crown and all the power that came with it- including the alliances said King had made. Therefore, the Hassasseen were trapped in Underland, in thrall to their enemies and unable to return either to Tearmunn or to their families in the Outlands. She had even had the gall to give the warriors a new name in her language, a bastardization of the Outlandish which Niall and his people spoke.

The injustice of it made Niall burn with barely-contained fury. For the Hassasseen, the pride and glory of the Nazari, to be sworn to protect the Adamasi bitch's puppet, to serve the so-called Royals who sat in a usurper's throne and ruled over the land that was supposed to be their own! The insult was not to be born. The Blue Royals would be eliminated, and the Nazari would take back what was theirs- their ancestral home, their Hassasseen, their history. And no chit of a puppet-girl would stop him.

He would send a group of his men in, straight to the ancestral heart of Tearmunn. Once they had the Heartland, they could secure the rest of the Kingdom of Witzend more easily than breathing. Niall would free the Hassasseen from their enslavement to the Puppet Princess. She and her usurping parents would have to be killed, of course; Niall would not make the mistake of exiling them. That would lead to a chance that they would return, as he was planning to do, and he would have no rivals to his clan's claim to the land.

The question, then, was the most effective method of killing the Blue Royals. Niall doubted that his men could get close enough to the King and Queen to kill them outright; they were protected by the High Queen, after all, and vow of nonviolence or not she was still a formidable presence in Underland. Besides, even in the Outlands they had heard the stories of Alice the Champion and the Mad Hatter. Champions and formidable warriors, both, and Heroes of Underland besides. If they were attacked, they would fight, and in Underland they held all the advantages- knowledge of the terrain, the loyalty of the people, access to resources.

But if he could draw them to the Outlands… ah. Now there was an idea. In the Outlands they would be weak, and vulnerable, while his people would hold all the cards. If they could kidnap the Princess, draw out her parents… yes. He liked that plan. Surely a parent would do anything for their child, even follow her kidnappers into the forsaken Outlands? And then he could be sure that they were properly killed and disposed of, instead of having to rely on hearsay and secondhand reports.

And when they had eliminated the Blue Royals and reclaimed Tearmunn… what then? Unlike the unlamented Red King, Niall had no desire to take over all of Underland. Underland did not interest him, except for how the kingdoms could aid Tearmunn. But the Adamasi… the descendents of the High King who had brought such misery to his people… they would have to pay. They were a corrupt line, ruthless and heartless, as hard as the diamonds for which their suit was named. The High Queen was setting up puppet monarchies all over Underland, trying to consolidate her power. Niall would not let that happen. The Adamasi would pay for what they did to the Nazari.

Niall had been told one week ago that White Pawns had been seen in the Outlands, close to the mountains. They had claimed that they had been sent by the High Queen to escort the Nazari into Underland, to live under the rule of the Puppet Princess. Niall had laughed at the offer, at the arrogance and stupidity of the Queen who offered such a bargain. His response had been quick and brutal; the bodies of the Pawns had been left in the trees to rot, a strong warning to any who dared to think of enslaving the Nazari.

The only problem was how to get back into Underland. The mountains that separated the Outlands from Tearmunn were spelled, so that Outlanders could not get through. Once one crossed the mountains, the only way back was if one was Underlandian. It was an effective spell; once an Underlandian was banished by the High King or Queen, they were stripped of their bonds to Underland, meaning that Underland would not recognize them when they reached the borders and would reject them, not allowing them back in. When the Red King invaded, he had had the aid of some Crows of Crims he had allied with before he was sent into exile. The Red King and his men had drunk pishalver and ridden upon the backs of the Crows into Underland. However, with the Red King dead, the Crows had returned to Crims, and could not be prevailed upon to return to Underland despite Niall's offers of safe haven and tributes of gold. Barring a miracle of Fate, the Oraculum only knew how he and his family would return home…

"Niall!"

Niall glanced up at the voice of his cousin Taran, captain of Niall's personal guard. Like Niall, Taran's hair was golden blond and curly, when he grew it out, falling to his shoulders and framing a face tanned from a lifetime outdoors and hardened by a lifetime of discipline and combat. Like Niall's mother, sister to Taran's mother, Taran had a strong jaw and painfully blue eyes. The same eyes as himself, as Dafydd… Niall concealed the flinch, the stab of pain caused by the memory.

_Soon_, he promised himself and Dafydd. _I'm coming for you, hold on just a little while longer._

"What is it, Taran?" Niall asked, straightening, his stiff back muscles protesting at being used after so long a time of stillness.  
>"Captives," Taran replied, holding the tent flap back. "We caught them in the mountain pass."<br>Niall blinked, hardly daring to hope. "Underlandian?"  
>"Yes," Taran nodded.<p>

Niall didn't smile, but there was a gleam of victory in his eyes. Here it was, his ticket to Tearmunn and his people's future.

"Take me to see our guests."

* * *

><p>Regina grinned, humming to herself as she bounced around her chambers, checking to see that she'd packed everything important. Her Hightopp tartan pieces, which Tarrant had woven for her and made into a kilt, a cloak, a full dress, and a tam. A tea service. Her traveling pack, which included flint and tinder, canteens of water, preserved foods, and a warm fur to sleep in. Thimbles, because you never knew.<p>

When she was certain that everything was prepared, she left her room and headed for Alice's office. She had been looking forward to this trip ever since the first time she set eyes upon Hightopp Hill; the place was her ancestral homeland, and she was bound to it, body, mind and spirit. In her mind, she always heard the lovely, lilting echoes of the Music of the Hightopps, the Song that spoke of her clan's history, the secrets of their trades, of courage and determination and loyalty and all the Traits that made one a Hightopp. The Music had only been an echo since the Horunvendush Day, the Day that the entire clan save Tarrant was murdered by the Jabberwocky. Now, Tarrant was returning home, and he and Regina were going to restore the Music that always called the Hightopps back home.

It was a sacred Rite, singing the Song. To restart the Song was to signal to Underland that the Hightopps still loved and honored Iplam, that they bound themselves to the land anew. Reviving the Music would signal Tarrant's intent to rebuild the clan and the land, and his intent to take his rightful place as Laird of Iplam; it would indicate Alice's and Regina's promise to aid him in his endeavor. They would be bound together, clan and family. It was no light thing, restarting the Music, and Regina hoped that after they underwent the Rite it would help her family finally reunite themselves.

Full of hopes and optimism, Regina made her way through the labyrinthine halls of the Cerulean Castle. But when she reached the door to Alice's office, Regina paused, her smile dimming as she heard the conversation going on inside.

"I am sorry, Tarrant, but this is something I can't ignore."  
>"Aam nae askin' ye tae ignair it," Tarrant argued.<p>

Regina winced; she hadn't heard his brogue this strong in many months, and certainly never when he was talking to His Alice. If his Outlandish accent was this strong, he couldn't be too far from a bout of Madness. What had happened to push him so close to the brink?

"Jist tae delay it fur puckle days. Alice, we've hud thes trip planned fur months…"  
>"Which is precisely why you should go ahead," Alice cut him off. "You and Regina both wanted to be in Iplam for her birthday, I wouldn't dream of keeping you from that. But I need to complete these negotiations with Snud."<br>"Trade negotiations can bide," Tarrant said, his voice hard. "Thes is clan business, which cannae be completed unless th' entire clan is thaur."  
>"The entire clan will be there," Alice retorted.<p>

For an entire moment, there was silence in the office. Regina's breath caught in her throat, and her wide green eyes widened; they were probably fading to gray, she absently thought. Had Alice really said she wasn't a Hightopp? But of course she was… What was going on?

"What… what do you mean?" Tarrant breathed, seemingly so stunned that he'd been knocked straight out of his brogue. "You must be there, you're a Hightopp, Alice…"  
>"Only by marriage," Alice said, her voice soft and tinged with emotions that Regina couldn't quite decipher. "We both know that I cannot hear the Music."<br>"Ye will. Ye will!" Tarrant said, seemingly recovering his Anger, if the brogue was any indication. "Regina an' Ah will restair th' Sang, an' yoo'll hear it jist braw. Yoo're th' lady ay Iplam, Alice. Th' guidwife ay th' Laird ay th' Hightopps. Ye main be thaur."  
>"Tarrant, please…" Alice sighed. "I would only be a spectator. I cannot partake in the ritual. I think it best for you and Regina to go alone, while I finish up business."<p>

Anger sparked in Regina's heart, and the pounding in her ears grew louder until it became an insistent buzzing, a droning hum that blocked out all other sound. The anger traveled up from her heart and into her eyes, until she was lost in a haze of fury.

Really, it wasn't surprising to Regina that Alice was holding herself apart. She had been distant and withdrawn for the last six months; this was nothing new. It wasn't that Alice was keeping aloof from the idea of the clan that angered Regina.

What angered her was that Alice had promised that this time, she would be there. She had _promised_ to come to Iplam, to participate in this most important of rituals- a Rite that could not be completed unless every member of the Hightopp clan was present. If Alice wasn't there, there was no point in even enacting the Ritual, because it wouldn't work. Didn't Alice understand that? Didn't she realize that by backing out of this trip, she was undoing all of Tarrant's hard work, dashing all of his hopes and dreams? How could she do that to him, after spending so long pushing him to restore the land? Had Alice gone Mad?

Her eyes flaming topaz and surrounded by the black bruise-like shadows, Regina stormed into Alice's office, her red-gold hair flying about her face like licks of flame.

"Hoo coods ye nae come wi' us?" she demanded, the brogue lying thick on her tongue. "Dornt ye kin 'at th' magic cannae be worked if yoo're nae thaur? What's th' point in tryin' tae restair uir clan if yoo're nae gonnae help? Whik kin' ay quine ay Iplam ur ye? Ye _trysted_ us! Hoo coods ye be sae selfish? Yoo're bein' as cruel as th' Bluddy Beg Hid!"

When she had lived Above, Regina had been known to fly into "fits of temper," as Lady Ascot had called them. She would rant and rave, often knocking things over or throwing things into walls. When she had come to Underland, she had learned that she had inherited her father's temper, and a share of the Madness that had always plagued her clan. While Regina's mind wasn't nearly as fractured as her da's, she was still much more prone to fall into the Haziness, as her form of Madness had been termed.

"Regina."

She could have happily gone on for quite some time with her rant against Alice, but hearing her da softly speaking her name and laying a bandaged, gloved hand upon her arm pulled her up short. She glanced down at her athair's hand, her gaze trailing from the mercury burns to the bandages to the thimbles to the tartan fingerless gloves as she fought to beat her temper back.

"That's enough," Tarrant said, his voice soft but firm. "We'll leave your mathair to her work."

Regina didn't trust herself to speak, but she nodded, allowing Tarrant to steer her out of Alice's office and down the hall.

Tarrant remained silent as he guided his daughter outside, allowing her time to recover from her episode of Madness. While he held his tongue, he watched her, silently worrying. When Alice had first come to him and announced her pregnancy, Tarrant had been utterly ecstatic; he had fallen to his knees, pressed his face into her stomach, and thanked her profusely for making him so happy. But behind the profound awe that he and Alice had made a child, the overwhelming joy in the fact that he was soon to be someone's athair, there had been a healthy fear. Fear that his child would inherit the Hightopp Madness.

There was no escaping it completely; the Madness was as much a part of the Hightopps as the drive to create beautiful things and the proclivity to Futterwhacken. But the Madness took different forms in different Hightopps; Tarrant's father Wyndym, for example, had merely been prone to break into hysterical giggles at the mere mention of puckleberries, while his poor sister Ilvenia had been so afflicted by a Mad obsession with oysters that she had drowned herself. From the moment Tarrant learned of Alice's pregnancy, he had pleaded with the Spirit of Underland to be kind to his child, to make his or her Madness gentle and enjoyable.

It tore him to shreds to see his precious little boy succumbing to the family affliction. So far, he only saw glimpses of Madness in her eyes when she was exceptionally angry. But that was how it began, as he well knew. A strong bout of Madness would overtake her, and when it had passed she would be left breathless and frightened, seeking out some activity that would keep the Madness at bay. It was for this that Tarrant had become so obsessed with tea; the intense concentration it required to properly brew a good tea blocked out that Other, left the Other no spare thoughts to feed upon and grow strong from. What would happen to his dearest little child if she didn't find such an obsession? What if the Madness utterly consumed her?

He knew he needed to discuss this with his daughter. She was a Hightopp through and through; there would be no escaping Madness. He didn't want her to meet the demon unprepared; that way, she would only fall the faster. But neither did he want to frighten her with thoughts that her Madness was out of control. Fearing the Madness only gave it more power, as Tarrant knew all too well. She must learn to- for lack of a better phrase- dance with her Madness, make friends with it. Perhaps he could teach her to do that while they sat nestled in their ancestral homeland; Underland knew they couldn't undergo their original purpose, if Alice wasn't there. They might as well do something productive with their time, or Time might get it into his head that Tarrant was trying to kill him again.

Tarrant's musings consumed him as he and Regina made their way through the castle and out to the courtyard, where her Panther Sora and his Horse Windmare waited for them. He was only pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his daughter's voice.

"I'm sorry, Da," she said softly, weariness and contrition coating her voice. "I shouldn't have yelled at her like that."  
>Tarrant nodded, having already forgiven her. "I'm disappointed too, my Sugar Cube," he admitted. "I had hoped…" He sighed, looking away. "The Song used to be able to bring us peace," he said, gazing down at the reins in his hands. "I had hoped that hearing the Music might help her."<p>

Regina chewed on her lower lip for a moment. The topic of Alice's sickness was a sensitive one between father and daughter; Tarrant was clinging so hard to Hope, and didn't like Regina's impatience with Alice's inability to pull herself out of it. And while Regina didn't want to upset her athair, she had long ago lost any Hope that Alice would get better, which made it exceptionally difficult to comfort her da.

"Perhaps… maybe she doesn't want to be helped. Not yet, anyways," she hurriedly tacked on as Tarrant began to frown at her. "Maybe she just needs more Time."  
>"Perhaps you're right," Tarrant sighed. "If Time is what she needs, then that's what we'll give her. We, however, have no more Time to waste," he declared, shaking himself free of his mood. "If we plan to reach Iplam by sundown, we must leave."<p>

With that, Tarrant signaled to the Clubs who were accompanying them on the journey, and the party began to leave. With a nod to Dafydd to signal the Fearail, Regina followed Tarrant. She sighed unhappily, heartsore for her da's unhappiness and cursing her mathair for being the cause of that grief. How could Alice be so selfishly lost in her own problems? How could she not know how important this Hogmanay was going to be to Tarrant?

"Regina?"

She didn't look up as Dafydd's voice, pitched low for her ears only, wrapped around her. She kept her gaze straight ahead as he drew his Stallion Arturias even with Sora, her gaze dropping to her hands as he silently observed her. She didn't want to see his knowing gaze, or the sympathy in his sapphire eyes.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice duller than she would have liked.

He didn't call her out on her untruth, for which she silently blessed him a thousand times, because she really didn't want to talk about it. He simply laid one large, strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently to remind her that he was there. She laid her hand over his for a moment, silently thanking him for the support. She still didn't want to talk about it, even though Dafydd was a surprisingly good listener, but she took comfort in knowing that she could, if she wanted to. It wasn't part of his duties as Champion to listen to her when she needed to talk out her emotions, but he did it anyways, for which she thanked him. But for now, she really, _really_ didn't want to talk about it; she just wanted to get away from Berserka and to the sanctuary of Iplam.

* * *

><p>The trip was mostly a silent one. At Dafydd's signal, the Fearail melted into the forests, scouts both ahead and behind. One would think that they were riding through an enemy territory instead of their own country; but on the other hand, it had been through Witzend that Stayne and the Hassasseen had gotten to the rest of Underland. Dafydd wasn't about to take any chances, especially not when Regina was involved. While the rest of his men moved silently through the shadows, as invisible as wraiths, Dafydd rode right next to Regina, one hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip.<p>

Regina glanced at her athair, but he didn't seem to notice or care about the security measures. He was sitting stiffly in his saddle, eyes shaded by his Hat, staring straight ahead, lost in the labyrinth of his own mind. It wasn't often that Tarrant Hightopp was still and silent like this. According to Mallymkun, when Tarrant was still and silent it meant he was lost, lost in his thoughts and in his own private battles- with Time, with Memory, with Despair. At least his eyes were gray and not topaz, she thought resignedly. She could deal with the gray. If his eyes turned topaz… well, they were all in trouble then. Regina might be good, but only Alice was a foolproof cure against the topaz. Leaving her da to Himself for the moment, she turned her head towards Dafydd.

"Has it been very bad lately?" she asked softly, glancing around at the trees.

Dafydd, understanding her meaning, nudged Arturias closer to Sora. Their height differences, he on Horse and she on Panther, worked out so that if he bent down just a bit, he could murmur in her ear without disturbing anyone else. She steeled herself for what Dafydd would say; one thing she appreciated about him was that he never sugarcoated anything, never tried to shelter or protect her [while conversely, always safeguarding her].

"There's been some trouble in the mountains," he said in a near-whisper. "Outlanders. Animals, mostly, but a Human here and there."  
>"Not another uprising, like Stayne," Regina said, her voice wavering slightly.<br>"I don't know," Dafydd admitted. "We couldn't get close to them. They could just have been lost, looking for wandering flocks. But if not… even if the Hill is protected…"  
>"Witzend is still the closest territory to the Outlands," she finished for him.<p>

She bit her lip, her brow furrowing. The last thing Witzend needed right now was another invasion. Alice's reign was still shaky; Witzend was only just beginning to recover from eighteen years of neglect. If they were hit with a war now, it would be catastrophic…

"We'll keep you safe, Regina," Dafydd promised as their gazes met. "I will keep you safe."  
>"I know you will, mo laoch," she smiled gently.<p>

After hours of riding, Regina sat up straighter, holding her breath as she caught the faintest strains of the Music of the Hightopps. By the Butterfly, it was even more beautiful than she'd remembered. For a moment she sat absolutely still, feeling something stirring within her, responding to the Song. A tingle of energy shot through her, warming her from head to toe.

"Home," she murmured on a sigh, before spurring Sora into a run.

She was aware of Tarrant and her Fearail following after her, but she paid them no mind. Nothing mattered in that moment, other than the beautiful Music of her ancestors. She wanted to be in the heart of her homeland, where the Music was the strongest. Leaping off Sora's back, Regina ran through the fallow, empty field that had once been Hightopp Village, sprinting up to the summit of the Hill. When she got there, she threw her arms out, laughing and spinning around in dizzy circles as the Music filled her. Everything else- Dafydd's warnings about the Outlands, her anger at Alice, her worry for her da- all of it faded into insignificance when compared to the hauntingly beautiful Music. She didn't even notice her da approaching until he'd laid his hands on her shoulders, stilling her.

"Easy, mah wee lassie," he murmured, squeezing her shoulders. "Keep stirrin' th' Sang up loch 'at an' yoo'll wake th' Music up aw by yerself."  
>"Would that be a bad thing?" she asked, still dizzy and enchanted by the Song. "If we wake it up, then <em>she'll<em> hear it, and she'll get better like you want, and everything will be alright again."

Tarrant didn't reply in words, but he squeezed Regina's shoulders again. The deep sigh that issued from him let Regina know that he understood, that he longed for that very thing. But he was right, they couldn't stir the Song up; they couldn't enact the Rite without Alice's presence. The Song would have to remain an Echo for now. Regina sighed deeply in disappointment; how could Alice deny them this?

"Come, mah lassie," Tarrant said softly, wrapping a paternal arm around Regina's shoulders as he led her towards the High House.

* * *

><p>Taran Nazar grumbled to himself as the wind whipped past him, some gusts of air nearly enough to knock him off the back of the bird he rode. He would be eternally grateful when his feet touched solid ground again…<p>

But despite his discomfort, Taran had to admit that Niall's plan was a brilliant one. The Underlandians their scouts had captured had been Avian Keepers, men who captured and trained messenger birds. They had been found on the Outlandish side of the mountains, searching for birds to capture. They had been brought, gibbering and terrified, before Niall, and had immediately started making threats and promises, anything to get back home. Niall had kept his temper, seeming even amused at these simplistic bird-men. He had assured the men that they would come to no harm, as long as they helped him. Taran and six of his men had taken pishalver and taken the birds as transportation into Underland. Once they had returned to the Outlands with the Puppet, Niall would release the men and allow them to go back home. He'd even allow them to take the birds back with them.

Finally, the birds landed in a cluster of trees. Taran and his men slid from the birds' backs, eating a crumb of upelkuchen and carefully balancing themselves on their branches as they grew to their proper sizes. After changing into clothes that fit and bribing the birds to stay with shiny baubles, the Nazari had headed east.

They all halted as they felt a disturbance in the energy of the forest, vibrations that filled the air, the ground. It was some kind of magic, they could all tell; it was a powerful, ancient spell, a spell to call everything together into one entity. Silently, the men crept closer. With every step, the vibrations strengthened; low, ancient, as if the earth itself were singing to them.

"Blessed Tearmunn," one of the men, Cadfael, murmured. "The Music. It does exist."  
>"Remember," Taran whispered to his men. "Find the girl. Do not engage any others, and don't let Dafydd and his boys see us. Whoever grabs the Puppet, leave behind your clan marker."<p>

The men all nodded, then fanned out in different directions. They would encircle the Heartland, trap the usurpers who besmirched this sacred land with their presence, and they would steal the Puppet Princess, leaving behind a signal for their brothers-in-arms that help and rescue was on the way. And soon enough, this land would belong to them once again.

* * *

><p>It was practically unheard-of for Dafydd Nazar to be sitting absolutely still, doing absolutely nothing. On the rare occasions when he sat down, he was usually polishing and sharpening his ever-present claymore, and even when it appeared he was doing nothing, he always had one eye on his surroundings and the other eye on his Princess. And yet, right now, he truly was doing nothing; sitting on a log, arms dangling over his knees, staring at nothing. Had he been thinking about this lapse in duty, he would have excused himself by saying that they were in a sacred and well-protected place, that his men were bustling around and that they were all as acutely aware of their surroundings as he. For once, he didn't care about his duty to Regina. For once, the land on which he found himself held his complete attention.<p>

For all his life, Dafydd had heard the stories about Tearmunn, about the clan gatherings that had taken place twice a year. His childhood had been filled with fairy tales about the Song of Tearmunn, the beautiful Music that bound the Nazari to the land, to each other. Ever since Niall had become the ceann-fine of the Nazari, they had been working to prepare the clan for the day when they could come home.

He didn't miss the irony that he was home at last, and in the service of those that Niall called usurpers.

He shifted on the log, leaning on his thighs and loosely interlacing his fingers as he stared at the Heartland. The top of the heavily wooded Hill was in the center of the Village, and was the sacred land from which the Music sprang. He could feel the Music, feel it washing over him, stirring in his soul, flowing through his veins. He could _feel_ it, but he couldn't _hear_ it. He knew he shouldn't be surprised; the High Queen may have lifted the banishment that lay over him and the Hassasseen, but they hadn't been reinstated as citizens of Underland yet. That couldn't happen until Regina was officially coronated, which wouldn't happen until her capital had been rebuilt. He wasn't surprised, but he was disappointed, crushingly so; he wanted so much to hear the Music. He was sure it was beautiful.

Dafydd glanced over his shoulder, down the hill towards the High House where Tarrant and Regina had retreated earlier. Tarrant was Laird of this land now. He knew that he should hate The Hightopp for taking what belonged to his clan, but… he couldn't. For all that Niall harped on the fact that the Nazari were the rightful heirs to Tearmunn, the truth was that Laird Hightopp's claim to the land superseded theirs. The Hightopps had retained this land after the Nazari had been outlawed; it was theirs now. Could it someday belong to both of them? He hoped so, but he didn't dare voice that hope. For now, it was enough simply to be here, to feel the Music soothing him, healing him, welcoming him.

Dafydd glanced to the side as Ioan sighed and took a seat by him. For a moment, neither spoke; they simply sat there, feeling the Music they would never hear.

"It's beautiful," Ioan commented softly, for once completely still and serious. "I've waited a lifetime to come here, see if the stories were true."

Dafydd nodded silently; Aye, the Song was beautiful. Everything their stories had said and more.

"All our lives, we've waited for a Day just like this," Ioan continued. "When we'd sit on the Hill and hear the Song. And here we are… but we can't hear it. Why do you think that is? Is it just because we're not citizens of Underland yet?"  
>"I don't know," Dafydd admitted. "Maybe. Or maybe She just doesn't recognize us anymore. We've been gone a very long time."<br>"I've been thinking," Ioan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "What if you're right, Dafydd? What if Tearmunn doesn't know us anymore? What would have happened, if we'd killed them like we were supposed to? Would Tearmunn welcome us back, after we killed the last Hightopps like that?"  
>"I don't think She would have forgiven us," Dafydd said slowly; he had also thought much about this in the past months. "Killing the rightful Laird, his heir… It's not right. That's never the way our clan worked. I don't think we can take Her from them by force."<br>"How, then?" Ioan asked. "I don't want to kill Gigi either, and we were wrong to ever think that was an option, I know that. But…" Ioan sighed, running a hand through his dark curls. "This is ours too, Dafydd. This is our home, where we belong."  
>"I know that," Dafydd said impatiently, feeling just as helpless as Ioan sounded.<br>"So what do we do?" Ioan asked. "What happens when our families come over the mountains, and we have to tell them we can't have the Heartland after all?"

Dafydd sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. It frustrated him that he didn't have an answer for that question. He had lain awake night after night, thinking about this very problem, wondering if there could possibly be a future for his people when they were barred from the Homeland. What would they do when their families arrived? Could they somehow work a deal with Tarrant? Somehow, Dafydd couldn't see the Hightopp Laird being too enthusiastic about that idea; certainly if their situations were reversed, Dafydd wouldn't be keen on allowing rivals into his homeland. So what solution was there?

His attention was grabbed by a movement coming from across the Heartland. When Ioan saw what had caught Dafydd's attention, he rolled his eyes, clapping a hand on his cousin's shoulder before walking away, calling a jovial greeting to Regina as she approached the summit of the Hill.

From his unseen vantage point, he watched her, all of his attention riveted on her. Ginger curls that had, as usual, escaped their braid, skin as pure and smooth as fresh cream, spring green eyes that were just slightly larger than a normal human's. She wore a strapless, corseted gown with a full skirt, in the Hightopp tartan. In deference to the slight chill in the air, she also wore a dark half-cloak to cover her bare shoulders and arms. Her Hat was, for once, nowhere to be seen; instead she wore a simple bandeau in a matching tartan to her dress.

By the Butterfly, he was lucky that his job involved watching her all the time… Otherwise, he was sure to be in trouble with her da for how often his eyes were on her. For the millionth time, he cursed himself for his arrogance when he first saw her all those months ago [ironically, here in the Heartland]; how could he ever have thought she wasn't much to look at?

He smiled faintly as she threw her arms out and spun in circles, blissfully unaware that he was watching, or perhaps taking his watching for granted. She was very much a creature of Underland; as unrestricted and free as the bread-and-butterflies that flitted from Flower to Flower, and as free-spirited as the Birds that flew overhead. Yes, Regina belonged in Underland. But especially here, in Tearmunn. After all, she was a Hightopp; this was her ancestral land, too. It was clear that the land had claimed her; he could practically see the magic flowing through her, tying her to the land and to a clan that no longer existed. He could feel the Music strengthening as she danced, reacting to her just as actively as he was.

He bit the inner corner of his lip, falling into thought. If he knew Niall, and he did, the ceann-fine had moved the clan close to the mountains now. He had likely heard that Dafydd and the former Hassasseen were serving Regina, and he wasn't likely to take that news well. He would come haring over the mountains to find his clansmen and 'liberate' them, and he would punish the Hightopps severely for 'holding the Hassasseen captive.' He knew Niall was ready to invade Witzend, and to be perfectly honest he hoped the Nazari did come. After all, this land was just as much their home as it was the Hightopps'… Dafydd wondered, though, if he could use his influence on Niall, get him to agree that the Hightopps could remain in Tearmunn with them. Regina especially; it would be cruel to deprive her of the land and the Music she loved so much, especially when Tearmunn Herself so clearly loved Regina in return.

He shook his head, pushing the dark Thoughts away for now. He stood, blending into the trees at the edge of the clearing and moving closer to Regina, silent as the shadows. When he got close, he reached out and grabbed her, grinning in pleasure when he was rewarded by her startled gasp.

"You really do delight in scaring me, don't you?" she asked, hands on his chest, though her scolding was undermined by her grin.  
>"It's too easy, dearbadan-de," he grinned in response, the Outlandish endearment coming far too easily to his lips. "You should pay more heed to your environment. What if I'd been an enemy?"<br>Regina rolled her eyes. "It's your job to worry about that, not mine, mo laoch," she shot back. "Now how are you going to make amends for startling me?"  
>"Well, I suppose I could dance with you, since you seem so determined to wake the Music when your da told you not to," he said with a put-upon sigh.<br>"Do you? Dance?" she asked, tilting her head. "I've never seen you dance at any of Alice's or Aunt Mirana's parties…"  
>"That's because I was working," he replied, sliding an arm around her waist and taking her hand.<p>

They danced silently for a moment, surrounded by vibrations of Music and dusky twilight. There was a chill in the air, he told himself; that was why they had to stand so close, for body heat. And he had to check to be sure no one had slipped poison into her hair, that was why his head had dropped far enough to smell the scents of honeysuckle and sandalwood that always followed her.

He closed his eyes, focusing his attention on the silent Music. The vibrations were changing as they danced; instead of rippling and skipping around Regina's glee, the energy throbbed low and steady, wrapping itself around them both like the warmest of blankets… or the gentlest of lovers' embraces.

"The Music is changing," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.  
>"I can feel it," he replied.<br>She pulled away enough to look up at him, confusion written on her face. "You can? I thought only a Hightopp could sense the Music."  
>"Our clans are related," he replied. "Or were, before mine was banished. We can sense the Song, but we can't hear it anymore. What does it sound like?"<p>

She looked up into his face, and he tried to keep from looking too desperate. But he was longing with every fiber of his being to hear the Music of his ancestors, and here was his only chance to do so. Whatever she found in his face, it seemed to make up her mind, because she drew close to him again, softly humming the Music she heard. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on the top of her head, and as she sang he fancied he could almost hear it, as if the vibrations drew strength from her voice and echoed her song. His breath caught in his throat; the Song was even more beautiful than he'd imagined it to be. He could quite happily spend forever here, with her, just listening to the Music.


	3. The Summons

**Author's Note**: Well, first of all, editing is a miracle pill for stories. When I first wrote this chapter, it was seven pages long on Word. After editing, it grew to eleven pages. My characters no longer know how to shut up, and it both delights and vexes me.

This chapter ended up being about 75 percent flat-out rewritten. I wasn't very happy with this chapter the first time around, so I knew it would be vigorously edited when the time came, but I wasn't quite expecting this much rewriting. However, it made the chapter a lot better, and I actually like it now, so I suppose that much rewriting ended up being a good thing.

The rewrite of this chapter did a lot to redeem Alice in my eyes. As I mentioned several times in Book One, Alice has never really been my favorite character, and I usually find it really difficult to write from her perspective [which I think is a case of Regina making me biased]. However, this chapter did a lot to make me like Alice. Granted, I'm probably gonna hate her again in the next chapter. But for now, I quite enjoy her scene, and I'm glad I rewrote it.

**Disclaimer**: Yes, the reference to Tea in Alice's scene is the SyFy _Alice_ kind of Tea. This is not the last time you will be seeing me playing with the idea of Tea.

**Special Thanks**: Thanks to my lovely beta Thirteen Thorns for looking this chapter over for me and assuring me that yes, a bit of passivity is fine. I feel like a lot of her job in Book Two is going to involve being my cheerleader and assuring me that yes, everyone is in character. She's brilliant at that, so thanks a million!

* * *

><p>The study chamber of the White Queen was a room incongruous to the overall color scheme and design of the palace. With the heavily carved, dark wood of the furniture, the hundreds of books that crowded shelves that stretched from high vaulted ceiling to floor, and the dark red carpeting underfoot, the study hardly seemed like a chosen abode for the delicate, ethereal High Queen of Underland. And yet here she sat, a blur of white, gauze, pearls and diamonds floating amongst the somber darkness of her study. She leaned back in her seat, her hands hanging limply off the arms of the chair as her gaze unfocused.<p>

Alice had contacted Mirana by Looking Glass that morning, to inform her of Tarrant and Regina's departure from the Cerulean Castle for Iplam. When Mirana asked why Alice hadn't gone with them, Alice had merely said that she had work to do.

"I have neglected my duties for far longer than I should have," she had said. "I nearly drove Witzend to ruin, I can't let that happen again."

Mirana admired Alice's determination to restore her kingdom, truly. Witzend _had_ fallen into disarray, and as Queen it _was_ Alice's responsibility to fix the damage she had done. After eighteen years, it was good to see Alice finally getting back to her duties.

But Mirana knew how much Tarrant and Regina had been looking forward to this Hogmanay. They had been meaning to enact the sacred Rite to restart the Song of the Hightopps, perhaps the single most momentous occasion in Tarrant's life since his wedding to Alice and the birth of his daughter. Mirana couldn't imagine how Tarrant must be feeling right now, to know that he wouldn't be restarting the Music after all- and because of His Alice's refusal to go to Iplam. Mirana sighed unhappily. She loved Alice, she did, but she wasn't blind to her former Champion's faults. Alice could be quite heedless of others' thoughts and emotions; careless, even. This was especially true when Alice's own thoughts and emotions were in a tangled muddle. Her unintended insensitivity sometimes led her to hurt those she loved best; her interlude with Tarrant on her bedroom balcony on the eve of the Frabjous Day was a good example. It was entirely possible, and in this case likely, that Alice's self-centered focus on her past failures as a Queen, a wife, and a mother was impeding the very process of re-establishing said family.

However, this was not a problem that Mirana could involve herself in. The Hightopps' dysfunctional family relations would solve themselves, with a little help from Time and a pinch of Luck. As much as Mirana ached for all three of them, they would have to sort themselves out. Even if it wasn't inappropriate for Mirana to try to mediate a private domestic matter, she had other problems on her plate at the moment.

As much as she loved the Hightopps, even their problems weren't more important than the fate of the Oraculum.

Time moved strangely in Underland; everyone knew this. However, despite the whimsical, meandering nature of Time, no one in Underland was immortal, not even Absolem. The Butterfly had been in existence for longer than Mirana could remember; from her mother's stories, Absolem had been a Caterpillar before her great-great-grandmother was on the throne. However, a fortnight ago Absolem had announced that today, on Ilduci Day, he would Fade Away.

Mirana had thought that Absolem should prefer to Fade quietly, isolated in his beloved mushroom patch. However, Absolem had been quick to correct Mirana. As High Queen, he was charging her with the protection of the Oraculum until the new Keeper had Formed. Therefore, Absolem would arrive in her study that evening, to explain the process by which a new Keeper would be Formed from his Fading. She expected him at any moment.

With a sigh that seemed to come from her very soul, Mirana reached into her desk drawer and withdrew a small hookah, preparing it for Absolem just the way he liked it. She could hardly imagine an Underland without Absolem there to guide it. He had always been the wisest and best of advisers, even if he was a little condescending. Even if they did have a new Keeper, it wouldn't be Absolem, and Mirana mourned the pending demise of her friend. However, she knew full well that no one and nothing could stop Death. He would come for all of them, eventually; Mirana only hoped that he would be gentle with their Absolem, that after so many years of turmoil and unrest, the Butterfly would finally find Peace.

At that moment, a bright spot of blue carrying a large parchment scroll flitted through the open balcony doors and flew towards her, lightly landing on the desk and setting the Oraculum before her.

"Hello, dear friend," Mirana murmured. "Are you alright?"  
>"Of course, silly girl," Absolem replied sedately, taking up the hookah mouthpiece.<br>"Absolem?" Mirana asked. "How does it work? Your Fading, I mean. I have looked in the Histories, and the only reference I can find states that as one Keeper falls, another shall rise."

For a moment, the Butterfly didn't answer; he merely blew smoke rings. When he deemed that he had enough smoke around him, he began to speak.

"Legend tells us that the first Keeper did not have a physical Oraculum," he said. "Rather, it _was_ the Oraculum. This Oracle was neither male nor female, but at the same time, it was both. As such, it held all the knowledge of both sexes… all Knowledge was within its head. It was a wise and true Oracle, but as time went on, its powers of foresight were abused by Kings who wanted to advance their own powers. The Oracle had long resided in the palace of the High King or Queen, but as Men grew more corrupt, the Oracle withdrew to the Garden of Flowers, and only the pure of heart and those with pure intent could find it."

Silence reigned for a moment as Absolem thoughtfully pulled a few more drags from his hookah. Exhaling the smoke with a satisfied sigh, he continued his tale.

"When the Time came for the Oracle to Fade, it made the decision that never again would an Oracle hold so much Knowledge. Instead, the Oracle would split itself in two. One gender would become the Keeper, and the knowledge of the other gender would be contained within a vessel of a different kind- the Oraculum. Keeper and Oraculum would have to work together in order to serve as Oracle, in order to prevent corrupt rulers from simply taking the Oraculum for themselves. Thus it has been ever since. With every Keeper's Fading, the genders of Keeper and Oracle are reversed. The next Keeper will be female, and the Oraculum Itself will change, both in form and in imparted knowledge. Masculine knowledge will be contained within the Oraculum, and what form it will take, I do not know."

Silence fell again as Absolem let Mirana absorb this knowledge. When she indicated that she was ready, Absolem continued.

"The process itself is not unlike a phoenix's death," he said contemplatively. "I carry the seed of the next Keeper within my body, although what form she will take, I know not. When I Fade, she will remain. The Oraculum itself will disintegrate, and will not take its new form until she has emerged. No form of magic or persuasion will be able to hurry the process along."  
>Mirana nodded slowly. "What will we do without the Oraculum to guide us?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.<br>"Underland will look to you," Absolem replied. "I will allow you one last look at the Oraculum, as far into the future as the Day the Keeper reaches maturity and creates the new Oracle."  
>"I understand, Absolem," Mirana replied, bowing her head. "How do I care for the Keeper?"<br>"The Seed must be kept warm," Absolem replied. "Once she has… hatched, for lack of a better term… she will be self-sufficient. But until then, constant warmth and light."  
>"Of course," Mirana said. "I will see to it myself."<br>"In that case, unroll the Oraculum," he said, giving her permission to open the compendium.

The scroll rolled open, one end of the Oracle unfurling itself quite a ways. Mirana bit her lower lip, slightly worried about how many Days seemed to pass between tonight and the Day when the Keeper would return to Underland. With a deep breath, Mirana leaned over the scroll, examining each Day's activities.

What she saw would have caused her to pale, if she could indeed grow any paler than she already was. Her dark eyes opened wide in alarm, and her mouth dropped open in shock.

"No. Oh, no, not again," she breathed.  
>"It must come to pass, Mirana," Absolem said sagely. "I have conferred with the Cheshire Cat and his protégé on this matter, and they have both confirmed what the Oraculum says. This is the only way."<br>"But the Oraculum is blank," Mirana argued. "They're just… gone. How can we safeguard them if we can't see them?"  
>"They must safeguard each other, silly girl," Absolem chided her. "Away from the distractions of Underland, they will grow and change, or they will be discarded. Once they leave the Oraculum's sight, they are no longer your concern."<br>"Yes, Absolem," Mirana murmured, though she still sounded distressed.  
>"And now, it is Time," he said, flitting down to the desk. "Fairfarren, Mirana."<br>"Fairfarren, dear friend," she whispered. "Thank you… for… oh, for _everything_."

The Butterfly drew a deep drag of the hookah smoke, and exhaled it slowly, guiding it around his body. When he was cocooned in the smoke, he emitted a tiny sigh. The smoke cleared away with the disruption of his breath, and Absolem was Gone. All that remained was a tiny, round glowing mass of… _Something_. Gently, Mirana picked it up, marveling at the lovely shades of blue and green that swirled within the… was it an egg? A seed?

"Hello, Keeper," she murmured. "Welcome to Underland."

Mirana started as a fizzling, crackling popping sound issued from the rolled-up Oraculum. In dismay, Mirana silently watched as the scroll began to smoke, the wrinkled, well-used parchment blackening and curling in on itself as the entire Oracle went up in flames. Within moments, the Oraculum had been consumed, not even a sprinkle of ash remaining.

"Well," she said shakily. "That's that, then."

Mirana returned her attention to the Seed, trying to block out the sudden feelings of vulnerability and exposure. Fates, she had depended upon the Oraculum so much, both during her exile under Iracebeth and during her tenure as Queen. To know that she no longer had an eye on the future, that she was flying as blind as everyone else, was frightening.

Shaking her head gently, Mirana plucked a small, soft pillow from one of the delicate chairs that sat before her desk. Laying the pillow on her desk under the light of her lamp, Mirana set the Orb on the pillow.

"I realize this is a rather crude sort of incubator," she softly addressed the Seed. "But I hope you find it acceptable until I can arrange to have a new protective encasement made for you."  
>"You realize you're bound to that Egg."<p>

Mirana gasped in surprise, turning just in time to see a wisp of smoke transform into the Cheshire Cat.

"Cheshire," Mirana sighed in relief. "I didn't know you'd be coming."  
>"Care for that Egg will rest solely with you," the Cat continued, as if Mirana hadn't spoken. "You won't be able to leave it, not for a moment. You will have to tend to its comfort day and night, until it hatches."<br>Mirana frowned. "Absolem didn't mention that. He said only constant heat and light."  
>"And you must provide for that," Cheshire grinned. "The lamps turn off, you know. The servants don't know what the Egg is. How do you know they won't accidentally throw it away?"<br>"Oh dear," Mirana sighed, instantly seeing the implications of what the Cat was saying.

He was right; the Seed was small and vulnerable. The slightest breeze could be enough to send it tumbling off the pillow, to be smashed on the hard floor below. The lamp could tire and decide to turn itself off. A million things could go wrong between now and the moment the Seed hatched, and Mirana was the only thing standing between the Seed and utter disaster.

"Well then, I suppose I'll just have to protect it," Mirana said thoughtfully, before looking up at the Cat. "Where is Witzend?"  
>"Waiting," Cheshire replied lazily, examining his claws. "I've told her that there's nothing she can do to prevent it, but she said that won't stop her from watching it. I don't see what good it'll do."<br>"She loves Regina, Cheshire," Mirana replied. "It's natural that she should worry for her." A sudden thought made the Queen pause. "Chess… can you see coming Days, even if the Oraculum has vanished?"  
>"Of course," the Cat replied. "The Oracle is nothing more than a mouthpiece for Time. Just because said mouth is gone doesn't mean the voice behind it has vanished."<br>Mirana sighed in relief. "Then you can see what's coming."  
>"Of course not," the Cat scoffed. "We see only possibility. Every time any of you change your mind, all the world changes again. That's why I don't bother looking anymore, you people are horribly indecisive."<br>"Oh," Mirana sighed, her shoulders visibly slumping. "So there are no assurances for the coming Days."  
>"There are never assurances in anything, Mirana," the Cat replied, almost gently. "However, you may have the comfort of knowing that my meddling grandkitten is determined to make it all turn out favorably."<br>"I am sure she will strive as much as her mistress," Mirana replied, smiling to herself.  
>"Indeed," the Cat said dryly.<p>

* * *

><p>Witzend wasn't sure how long she had been sitting before the Crack; probably too long. She was beginning to feel lightheaded, but she was getting much better at sitting before the opening in the Veil for long periods of time, learning how to follow one thread of possibility from decision to decision instead of allowing herself to be buffeted and swept along by the currents of Choice.<p>

The Cheshire Cat hadn't approved of Witzend sitting and watching the future unfold like this; he had warned that no good would come of it. Events were moving towards a fixed point, he had warned her; nothing she did or did not do would prevent this journey from happening. But Witzend didn't care. She couldn't transport herself to her mistress' side to be there as this all happened, but she absolutely would not let her mistress go through it alone. She would be watching. Even if there was nothing she could do for her mistress, she couldn't just sit there without even attempting to change events for the better.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting before the Crack. She was watching futures shift and change and be completely rewritten, but she didn't know if hours had passed, or minutes, or days; after all, Time did not exist behind the Veil. Therefore, Witzend wasn't sure if the events that she was watching had already happened, if they were happening now, or if they had yet to come to pass. Asking the Void to clarify what was happening now did absolutely no good, because on the other side of the Veil, _everything_ was happening at once. Which was incredibly unhelpful when one was trying to determine where in one's human's timestream one was.

Wait… there! Witzend focused on a thread she had come to know very well [far more than she really wanted to, if she was being honest]. His thread had shifted; only moments ago she had been watching a different life unfolding for him. But now, something had changed. His path had deviated… where had the deviation come from? What had occurred to remove him from the Brae? There!

Witzend watched silently, not even blinking as she observed her mistress' Champion staring at the crumpled bandeau laying abandoned on the ground. Hastily, she looked away as she felt the entire thread beginning to fray; she had no desire to watch his mind unravel as his future re-knit itself. But she'd seen what she needed to; she knew what had happened, and where in Regina's timestream she was now.

Stiff from sitting still for so long, Witzend leapt off the stalagmite onto the ground, yawning and indulging in a long stretch as she cleared her mind of the sights beyond the Veil. Alright, so she knew what had happened to Regina. The next question- what was she going to do about it?

She could do nothing. That would be easiest; her grandsire was right, this was moving towards a fixed point, and no matter what she tried to do, nothing would prevent the confrontation that was coming. However, it wasn't completely a bad thing. If she did nothing, Tarrant and Dafydd would race after Regina, and all would be well.

She could go after Regina herself. That, however, would do no good at all. Regina would only turn right back around and attempt to rescue Tarrant and Dafydd, and they'd only end right back up at that fixed point again. But this time, Dafydd might not get there in time, and the confrontation would end very, very badly indeed.

She could go to Alice. Honestly, that was her least favorite option. Alice had a very pronounced talent for complicating the future, further entangling whatever situation she was put into. Besides, Alice's presence would bring further pain both to Regina and to Tarrant, and Witzend didn't want to be the reason they were put in pain. However, if Alice wasn't brought in to complicate matters, there could be no resolution… Well, blast the Flowers. Fine.

Making a disgruntled face, Witzend swished her tail, instantly transporting herself from the Cave of Certitude to the Blue Queen's private solar in the Cerulean Castle.

The Blue Queen sat at her massive desk, leaning over the parchment she was furiously writing on. Her feather quill [graciously gifted to her by Sir Uilleam] never ceased its scratching, and from the slight furrow of Alice's brow, she was totally immersed in whatever she was working on.

Witzend sniffed disdainfully. So whatever she was scribbling on, she considered this more important than going to Iplam? Had Alice stayed on her original course, this entire situation might have been resolved incredibly easily!

Still, she reminded herself, it did no good to dwell on it now. Alice had made her choices, and the future that might have happened now never would. It was gone, and this future was in its place. All Witzend could do was try to further it along.

"Alice?" Witzend meowed, announcing herself.

She waited for a moment, but Alice made no noise or any acknowledgement that she had heard Witzend. Rolling her eyes, Witzend shifted slightly, transmogrifying herself directly onto Alice's desk, right on top of the paper the Blue Queen had been working on. She couldn't help but grin as Alice yelped in alarm; well, it wasn't every day one could frighten a Champion of Underland.

"Good evening, your Majesty," Witzend mewed politely.  
>"Witzend, you gave me a fright," Alice sighed, one thin, wrinkled hand pressed over her heart.<p>

Oops. Witzend had forgotten that Alice was Aged; she hadn't thought about the possibility of disrupting Alice's heart. The last thing she needed was for the thing to go galumphing out of control…

"Why aren't you in Iplam with Regina?" Alice asked, reaching out to scratch behind Witzend's ears.

Witzend purred, closing her eyes in enjoyment as Alice completely distracted her from her mission. Ohhhh, this felt wonderful; she needed to spend more time with Regina, it had been _ages_ since anyone hit that spot behind her left ear.

"Well, I can't very well be with Regina right now," she purred. "She's not in Iplam anymore."

Witzend pouted as the gentle scratching behind her ears abruptly ceased. She had been _enjoying_ that… Grumbling to herself, Witzend began licking her paw. Well, if she wasn't going to be petted, she might as well clean herself. Absolem only knew how long she'd been busy in front of the Veil, she could probably use a good cleaning.

"What do you mean?" Alice frowned. "Are they returning home already?"  
>"No, Alice," Witzend said, in between licks of her right foreleg. "Neither of them will be returning for quite some time."<br>"What?" Alice breathed, paling.  
>Witzend glanced up at her mistress' mother. "Regina has been taken into the Outlands. Kidnapped."<p>

Alice stared at Witzend for a long moment, clearly stunned into silence. Then a Look came into her eyes; a dark, ugly look that did not bode well for the kidnappers. Or for anyone else, for that matter.

"My daughter has been taken," she said, a dangerous edge in her voice.  
>"Yes, Majesty," Witzend nodded. "Tarrant and Dafydd are mounting a party to go into the Outlands after her as we speak."<p>

Alice pushed back from her desk hard, nearly tipping her chair over as she shot up. She began pacing through her office, pushing her hands through her carefully arranged coiffure. Witzend remained perched on the desk, well out of range of Alice and her flying hairpins. She watched as Alice paced, muttering to herself, her eyes darting back and forth as her fingers continued to burrow into her hair. Witzend was reminded of the days Above, when Regina was still Jane and would read stories to her. Pacing as she was, Witzend could almost imagine that Alice was Lady Macbeth, being driven insane by her guilt.

That thought gave Witzend pause. Now there was one thing she hadn't considered in her plans. It had been a given, in all the possible futures, that Tarrant would go quite, quite Mad when he discovered that his daughter had been taken from him. It had even been a good possibility that Dafydd might have a breakdown of his own- a good possibility that was rapidly becoming more and more certain. But Witzend hadn't stopped to consider that Alice might relapse into Madness. A clear, focused, Champion Alice would be a lovely addition to the rescue party, but what kind of trouble might a Mad Alice cause? Would she only hinder Regina's rescue?

Well, it was too late now, Witzend supposed as Alice rushed out of her office, slamming the door behind her. She'd made her choice, and set Alice on the path that would lead her into the Outlands. What happened from here was out of Witzend's control. All she could do now was let them all go and wish them all the best of luck.

* * *

><p>Alice stormed through the halls of her castle, blind and deaf to anything and anyone she passed. Of what importance were the servants, or the chattering courtiers? They could all go hang themselves, as far as Alice was concerned; at this point they were nothing more than impediments between Alice and her daughter. If they continued to prove themselves obstacles, Alice would simply cut them down.<p>

She passed by the hallway that would lead her to the chamber she shared with Tarrant, instead walking down the other path in the fork. There were no doorways along this hallway, except for the one at the very end. These doors, Alice yanked open, throwing them back and smiling grimly at the loud _bang_ that resounded through the room and the quiet hallway behind her. Without missing a beat, Alice strode to the center of the chamber, her hands already twisting behind her to remove her heavy, embroidered dress. After all, she could hardly wear the dress beneath her armor.

That she was going after her daughter was obvious; she didn't even need to think about it. The first time Regina had been taken from her, Alice had immediately gone in search of her child, and she hadn't quit the chase until Mirana announced that Regina was quite definitely out of their reach. This time, even if Mirana declared a rescue impossible, Alice would not stop. She had lost her daughter once; she would not surrender her again. Underland knew she had failed her daughter in every other way; she would not fail in this.

Alice squeezed her eyes shut, bringing her hands up to rub her temples as if she could shut out the Truth. She was well aware of all the ways she had failed Regina; her failure to come to Iplam was only the latest in a long line of disappointments. Perhaps it was due to Alice's Victorian upbringing in the Above, which stunted her ability to be as emotionally open as Tarrant. Perhaps it was Regina's anger and resentment at having been abandoned in the Above. Whatever the cause, Alice had failed Regina unforgivably, and Regina had certainly not forgiven Alice for it.

Well, not this time, Alice vowed. Alice had lost Regina once, and lost the chance to raise her baby. She would not lose the chance to become acquainted with the young woman her baby had become. Alice was sure that Regina would prefer to be rescued by her father, but she would just have to accept the fact that Alice would be there, as well.

Alice paused for a moment, checking to be sure all of her armor was on correctly. As she checked herself and strapped on her sword, she began formulating a plan. She couldn't afford to just run off helter-skelter, trusting to Underland to handle the details. She had done that many times before- as a child, as a Champion, as a mother. The last time Alice had trusted to Underland to protect those she loved, Regina had been stolen and taken Aboveground. No, this time she would not run blindly into danger. This time, her eyes were opened, and this time, she would plan.

She needed to pack a bag with supplies for a few days. Then she needed to round up Lewis and travel to Iplam as quickly as possible. She might possibly have to kill all twelve of Regina's Deuces and her Champion; obviously Dafydd hadn't done a good job of training her personal guard if they'd all failed to keep her safe. Then she needed to get into the Outlands, find Regina, and bring her home safely. Simple enough; nothing a former Champion of Underland couldn't handle.

At that thought, Alice paused, considering herself in the floor-length mirror. The face staring back at her was not the face of the young Champion she had once been; this face was wan and matured, with hair streaked grey and wrinkles in unattractive places. Underland had already declared quite unmistakably that Alice was no longer Her Champion; would She be terribly angry if Alice rushed off to act as a Champion again?

Alice frowned. She didn't care what Underland had to say. This was her _daughter_ at risk; she was going after her child, end of story. And if Underland decided to punish her again, then so be it.

Filled with this resolve, Alice walked out of her armory. She returned to her bedchamber, staying only long enough to fill herself a knapsack with travel essentials. That done, she raced outside to the stables, freeing the Bandersnatch from his stall. The moment she had settled herself on his back, Lewis took off with an excited howl, needing only the lightest guidance from Alice before taking off for Iplam.

She lost track of time as she rode on Lewis' back. She tried to focus on his rocking gait, the power of his running, but as time went on she began to feel stifled by the weight of her armor, the rhythm of Lewis' pounding paws. She closed her eyes, trying to focus, but the darkness behind her eyelids gave her no respite; in fact it only made the stifling sensation worse.

Hot on the heels of the Stifling was the Anger; a helpless infuriation she was well acquainted with. She had spent eighteen years of her life under the sway of this Anger, furious with herself and with Tarrant, and with Underland Itself. Mirana had been dosing Alice with medicinal Teas weekly; teas specifically formulated to regulate the emotions. Under Mirana's carefully formulated program, Alice had begun to regain control over her emotions; she had begun remembering what emotions other than Anger and Guilt felt like. However, when confronted with a full, hot Anger like this… It was overwhelming, and so very easy to get lost in. And really, she saw no reason not to be Angry. Surely this was a situation where Anger was called for?

Alice thought she might have heard a bird whistle, and a guard announcing her approach to the others on the Hill. She paid the Fearail no mind; clearly, they had been utterly worthless and thus weren't worth her notice.

Similarly, she had no spare attention to notice the current condition of Hightopp Hill. The field beneath the Tor was in much better condition than it had been when Alice was a lass, thanks to the work she had ordered done by her army of Clubs. The burnt buildings had all been torn down, and the plants had begun to come back. The High House had been rebuilt, an amalgamation of Tarrant's memories of his childhood home and his ideas for improvement. The Maypole had been re-erected. It had been a lovely village once; had Alice come to Iplam with the intention to help Tarrant and Regina restart the Song, it would have been a promising beginning for their clan.

But Alice was blind to all its charms. Glaring and snarling like the beast she rode, she slipped off Lewis' back, ignoring the beast as he collapsed in a heap, panting contentedly. Once she hit the ground, Alice planted her hands on her hips while her foot tapped against the ground.

"Where is he?" she snapped, glaring at the young men who gawked at her.

Seeing her foul mood, the Fearail kept at a distance, shooing each other uneasy looks and not answering her question. In some ways, Alice Clava was just as dangerous as Tarrant Hightopp, and none of them felt like risking their heads by crossing her temper.

When no colorful Mad man came out to greet her, either happily rambling like a fool or else hard and cold and fully Outlandish, Alice lost her patience.

"TARRANT HIGHTOPP!"


	4. Capture

**Author's Note**: Wow, for once I have hardly any notes. That's kinda weird.

This chapter was originally a royal pain to write- mostly because of Alice, because strangely enough she made no sense when she wasn't Mad. However, I found the editing process for this chapter to be really easy. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised that these characters work best when they're all barking Mad; it is Wonderland, after all.

Incidentally, I love the dynamics of the relationships between Tarrant, Dafydd and Alice. I'm gonna have a lot of fun playing with that in the next few chapters. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks**: Thank you to my beta Thirteen Thorns. I was a little iffy on the Dafydd/Ioan moment in this chapter, and she assured me that it made sense, given everything that's going on.

* * *

><p>"TARRANT HIGHTOPP!"<p>

Alice's rather vehement outburst was met with silence. The Fearail, being intelligent men and not wanting to get caught anywhere near an argument between the Blue Queen and Laird of Iplam, discreetly melted back into the trees, going back to their original task of scouring every inch of the Hill to try to determine what had happened to their little Queen.

Alice scowled at them all, but her attention was quickly diverted by the appearance of her husband from the High House. His appearance wasn't particularly graceful; he stumbled out of the house barefoot and bare-headed, clad only in his tartan kilt and an untucked poet's shirt. He clutched a steaming cup of tea in one badly trembling hand, apparently not noticing as most of the liquid sloshed out and watered the cobblestones. He caught at the doorframe with his free hand to steady himself, before bringing his hand up to gingerly rub at his head.

Had Alice not been so Mad, she might have taken one look at all of this and rushed forward to help Tarrant, realizing that there was something wrong. As it was, though, she simply placed her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" she snapped.

Upon hearing her, Tarrant frowned, wearily lifting his head to look blearily at her, before rubbing his head again. Alice huffed in impatience; had he not heard her? Or had he gotten himself drunk after losing their daughter?

"Sae ye decided tae come efter aw," Tarrant burred, not looking at her as he carefully lowered himself onto a bench. "A lot ay guid that's dain us, isnae it?"  
>"Don't you <em>dare<em> try to lay the guilt on me, Tarrant Hightopp," Alice seethed. "Not when you've gone and lost our daughter, _again_."  
>"I'll thenk ye nae tae lay th' blam oan me, Alice," Tarrant replied, still not gracing her with eye contact.<br>"Oh, this again," Alice snapped. "Last time, it was '_Oh, she's been taken by Underland Herself_.' What's your excuse this time, Tarrant, that you were hit over the head?"  
>"That's exactly what happened."<p>

Alice whipped around, glaring at Regina's young captain of the guard as he approached them. He gave Alice a cool glance before completely disregarding her, instead fixing his attention on Tarrant. He handed the Hatter a thin scrap of fabric, tied in a loop. Tarrant's fingers immediately closed on it, and he gave Dafydd the attention he'd been denying Alice.

"Hae ye foond anythin', laddie?" Tarrant asked, his voice strained.  
>Dafydd nodded shortly. "It was my kin," he said darkly.<br>"What?" Alice exclaimed. "How in the name of all the Days did they get back into Underland?"  
>"Alice, please," Tarrant said impatiently, waving her away. "Dornt gab abit things 'at arenae yer business."<p>

Alice stared at Tarrant for a moment, stunned into silence, before her voice found her with a vengeance.

"Not my business? _Not my business_?" she shrieked. "Regina is my _child_!"  
>"Och aye," Tarrant scoffed. "An' ye waur actin' <em>sae<em> motherly when ye broke 'er heart. Gang back haem an' tend tae business, Alice," he dismissed her. "We hae wark tae dae."  
>"How <em>dare<em> you?" she seethed. "Regina is my daughter just as much as she is yours, and I am _going_ to bring her back from wherever it is those barbarians have taken her!"  
>"Aye, an auld, broken hen is gonnae charge inae th' Ootlands aw by herself an' negotiate wi' fowk she knows naethin' abit," Tarrant mocked her, standing and walking forward until they were mere inches away from each others' glares. "Barry plan, as aye."<br>"You listen to me, Tarrant Hightopp," Alice snapped, smacking him in the chest. "I am going to the Outlands with or without your help, so you had best shut your mouth and prepare for our departure."  
>"Braw," Tarrant snapped. "We lae in half an hoor, <em>Champion<em>," he said, spitting out the word as if it were the dirtiest of curses.  
>"Fine," Alice snapped back.<p>

Dafydd watched incredulously as Alice spun on her heel and stormed back to her Bandersnatch, checking him over to be sure he was ready to leave. Turning back to the Hatter, he watched Tarrant glare at her, throwing his teacup to the ground and not flinching as the china shattered against the cobblestones.

"Impossible wench," he muttered, before shifting his attention back to Dafydd. "Sae, it's aff tae th' Ooutlands wi' us. Wa did they tak' mah dochter?" he demanded.  
>Dafydd shook his head. "Revenge, probably. Our ceann-fine will consider Regina a tyrant for taking us as her own."<br>"Ye volunteered tae come tae Crims," Tarrant frowned.  
>"He doesn't know that," Dafydd reminded him. "As far as he knows, we were taken hostage, and he'll want revenge."<br>"Fur th' loove ay aw th' blessed Days in Underlain…" Tarrant cursed, before refocusing on Dafydd. "Yoo're comin' wi' me, 'en," he ordered. "We'll negotiate wi' yer ceann-fine an' gie mah Regina back."  
>"Aye," Dafydd nodded gravely. "I'll come with you."<p>

With that, Tarrant spun around and marched into the High House, slamming the door shut behind him. Dafydd rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. Hadn't the Hightopps learned their lesson the last time? According to Regina, they had argued and blamed each other for losing their daughter as a baby, too, and that had ended in disaster for all involved. Were they really going to repeat the same mistakes again?

"Fates," Dafydd groaned.

He sighed heavily, dropping his head backwards to stare at the strange, half-day half-night sky. This trip was promising to be a _joy_…

Shaking his head, Dafydd walked away, heading towards the top of the Brae to regroup with his men. He rubbed his temple, wincing as he felt the buzzing beginning. No; he couldn't afford to lose himself to that right now. He had to remain calm, had to stay in control of himself. This was the time to focus, to find Regina; not the time to let the buzzing loose and lose himself within the battle lust.

But oh, was he angry. Angry with Niall, angry with the Nazari, angry with the Fearail, and furious with himself. Niall just _had_ to go and invade, didn't he? And the Fearail _had_ to let their guard down; they'd been bewitched by the Music of Tearmunn and lost focus. And now Regina was going to pay for their mistake. He had no doubt that by now, Regina had been brought to the ceann-fine; what was Niall going to do with her? What would _he_ do, when he got home and learned his Princess' fate?

No. Don't focus on that; that way only made the buzzing worse. Refocus, think of something else… anything else… Dancing. Think about dancing on the Hill, the vibrations of the Song wrapping around him as Regina sang. Think about the scent of her hair and the warmth that had built between them…

Oh, that wasn't helping. Because thought of Regina only led back to his fury with himself. This was all his fault. He had let his guard down for one stupid minute. He had left her alone one time, for just one moment. He had told her to stay on the Hill, that he would go and gather firewood so they could build a bonfire and sit with the Music for just a little while longer. He had walked away from her for one moment, and she had been taken.

Oh ow ow ow, his head… the buzzing was getting louder…

"Deep breaths, Dafydd."

Dafydd snapped his head up as he felt hands on his shoulders, and looked into Ioan's concerned gaze. His cousin squeezed his shoulders, painfully hard, forcing him to pay attention.

"Breathe," Ioan coached him. "Let it out. We need you to think right now. Calm down, let it go. Now's not the time."

His shoulders slumped as he followed Ioan's directions, nodding wearily as the buzzing receded. Ioan nodded briefly, stepping back and giving Dafydd room to breathe.

It had been like this for years. Dafydd would begin to lose himself to the buzzing, blinding, deafening anger, and Ioan would call him back. Dafydd had only become lost in the battle lust once, and it had led to an entire village being destroyed. Ever since then, Niall had ordered Ioan to keep Dafydd reined in. They couldn't afford to let their best fighter lose himself like that, to be so far beyond their reach that nothing could get through to him.

"Everyone report," Ioan commanded, glancing at the other Deuces. "Do we have any idea how they got in?"  
>"I found this," Caradoc volunteered.<p>

He stepped forward, handing Dafydd a small glass vial. The young captain sniffed it, then frowned.

"Pishalver," he confirmed. "You think Niall got back in touch with the Crows?"  
>"Had to be some kind of Bird," Ioan said, shaking his head. "They couldn't have been on the ground, we'd have seen them."<br>"Or the Trees would have put up a fuss," Madoc agreed. "The Land doesn't like strangers. She's unhappy enough about us being here."  
>"So they flew," Dafydd sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Fates, they could be anywhere in the Outlands by now, and we've got no trail to follow."<br>"I don't think Niall would have sent his boys in unless they were close by," Ioan said thoughtfully. "Less risk that way, quicker mission. They're probably close to the mountains, maybe by that Centaur oasis, remember it?"  
>"Let's hope so," Dafydd said.<p>

He walked a few steps away from his men, rubbing his face as he tried to think, to come up with a plan. What was the best way to get into the Outlands, diffuse the situation, and get everyone back safely?

"Alright," he decided, turning back to the men. "I want all of you to stay here and guard Tearmunn. Ioan's in charge."  
>"What?" Ioan frowned. "No. I'm coming with you."<br>"No," Dafydd negated. "I need you here. If Niall tries to invade, I don't want him coming to claim the Hill, not without him and Tarrant having some kind of agreement between them."  
>"You want us to turn on our own kin?" Owain asked blankly.<br>"No, we're not turning on anybody," Dafydd countered. "We're diffusing the situation. You'll stay here and keep anyone from claiming the Hill. I'm going into the Outlands with Tarrant and Alice."

Without a word, Ioan jerked his head away from the top of the Brae, walking away from the rest of the Deuces. Rolling his eyes, Dafydd followed, gearing himself up for the argument that was likely coming.

"I agree that we need to secure Tearmunn," Ioan started without preamble. "But you on your own with Alice and Tarrant? You don't even like Alice. What are you going to do with no one to buffer you?"  
>"I'll survive," Dafydd said, his voice hard. "Don't fight with me on this, Ioan. I have to go after her."<p>

Ioan looked at Dafydd, his eyes hard and searching and far, far too knowing. Dafydd shifted uneasily, but didn't back down from what he'd said.

"When did she become more important than coming home?" Ioan finally asked. "You're willing to give up everything. Everything we've fought and bled for. Everything Andras _died_ for."  
>Dafydd stiffened at the mention of his deceased brother. "Don't."<br>"Why?" Ioan pushed him. "How is she worth it?"  
>"I said <em>don't<em>," Dafydd snapped. "This isn't about choosing one over the other."  
>"Yes it is," Ioan argued. "You're walking away from everything that belongs to us, and what are you getting in return?"<br>"Shut UP!" Dafydd yelled, pushing Ioan back.

By the time Ioan had pushed himself off the ground, Dafydd had stormed off. Glaring, Ioan got to his feet, rubbing his shoulder. Damn his cousin and his ridiculous strength…

This wasn't going to end well. That much was obvious. Dafydd thought that he could force a balance, argued that he could have both- Regina and Tearmunn. Ioan thought that Dafydd was a fool. Tarrant would never surrender his claim to his homeland; nor would he allow his daughter to marry into a clan he saw as usurpers. Not that Niall would let Dafydd keep the Puppet Princess who stood between them and home. No, something was going to have to be sacrificed; these two goals couldn't be reconciled.

And even if Dafydd was willing to give up Tearmunn just to have Regina [and that was a goal that he had no guarantees of ever reaching], what made Dafydd think that the rest of the Nazari would be just as willing to give up their dreams? They had all, from the oldest Elder down to the youngest toddling infant, been raised with the knowledge that Tearmunn was their birthright. Why on earth would they give up on their homeland, just so Dafydd could pursue his woman? Even if Regina had offered them sanctuary, a home in her kingdom, it was to Tearmunn that the Nazari belonged. Even if Tearmunn meant nothing to Dafydd anymore, how could he deny the rest of his clan the chance to return home?

No, this wasn't going to end well. But Ioan knew his cousin too well to believe that Dafydd would accept that. No, the stubborn idiot would fight to turn everyone around to his way of thinking. And with Dafydd as angry as he was right now, there was a very real chance that he could go a bit Mad… which might just lead to a dead Alice. Which also wouldn't solve any problems [tempting though it was sometimes].

So there was only one choice; Ioan was going to have to go after Dafydd, and try to keep him from going Mad and doing something stupid. And he'd have to do it without Dafydd realizing that he was there, which meant he'd be tailing them. That'd be fun…

Grumbling, Ioan pulled Owain aside. "I'm leaving you in charge," he muttered.  
>"Oh good, you're going after the idiot," Owain said, sounding relieved.<br>"Of course I am," Ioan retorted. "If we let him go on his own, somebody's going to end up dead."  
>"We can keep the Hill," Owain assured him. "You just focus on Dafydd. Get them all home safe."<br>"I'll try," Ioan sighed. "He won't make it easy on me, but I'll try."

* * *

><p>After checking Lewis to be sure his saddle was bridled correctly and that she had all the supplies she'd need for an extended period out of doors, Alice removed most of her armor. She probably wasn't going into battle, so the heavy metal would only slow her down. And anyways, it was impossible to be stealthy when wearing an entire suit of armor. She'd retain her breastplate and grieves, but the rest of the armor, she decided, was largely superfluous.<p>

Having made that decision, Alice packed up the unneeded armor and carried it into the High House. She paused in the doorway, realizing that she'd never actually been inside the House yet and had no idea where anything was. And there wasn't any way she was going to seek Tarrant out and ask him, not when she was so mad at him.

Frowning, she walked through the first doorway on her left, finding herself in a room populated mostly with large, palm-tree like plants and enormous pillows. It looked almost like a Chinese opium den, to her Aboveground mind. Now what on earth could this room's purpose be? Shrugging, Alice deposited her armor on a convenient pillow; it'd be safe there until her return.

That done, Alice walked back outside, returning to Lewis and withdrawing a small hand mirror from one of the bundles strapped to his saddle. It wasn't the best for communication, but in a pinch it would do.

"Mirana," she breathed, pressing her thumb to the surface of the Glass.

The mirror rippled, then cleared to show Mirana sitting in her study. Upon hearing Alice's voice, the High Queen rushed to the mirror, somehow conveying her anxiety beneath her customary composure.

"Alice? Are you alright?" she asked.  
>"No, I am not alright," Alice snapped. "My daughter's been kidnapped again."<br>"Oh," Mirana sighed heavily. "Yes, I know. I saw it in the Oraculum an hour ago."  
>"What does the oracle say?" Alice asked, hoping for guidance.<br>Mirana shook her head. "It's blank, as happens when an Outlander's fate affects Underland."  
>Alice sighed heavily. "I was afraid of that. I'm going into the Outlands with Tarrant and Regina's captain."<br>Mirana nodded. "Once you cross the mountains, we won't be able to communicate with the mirrors."  
>"So we'll be completely on our own," Alice frowned.<br>"I'm afraid so," Mirana said apologetically.

Alice sighed. She hadn't realized how much she had come to depend on the Oraculum's guidance, until now, when the compendium could offer no advice. It had been many years since Alice had felt so vulnerable. It wasn't a good tiding for the beginning of her journey.

"Very well," she said, resigned. "Fairfarren, Mirana."  
>"Fairfarren, Alice," Mirana replied. "I'll try to locate Luck and Hope and send them on their way to you. And perhaps Time would consent to aiding you."<p>

Alice smiled wearily, and severed the connection with Marmoreal. By the time she'd put the mirror away, Tarrant and Dafydd were approaching her. They none of them spoke a word to each other; they simply mounted their Animals and took off towards the west, and the mountains that separated Underland from the Outlands.

* * *

><p>The first thing she was aware of as she came back to consciousness was that she was sitting on something solid and stationary, which was a massive improvement over the last few moments before she had fallen unconscious. The second thing she noticed was that her wrist was tied, and when she sluggishly moved her arm she found that she was most definitely tied to something. There would be no crawling away or even standing up; she was, for now, stuck. The third thing she realized was that she was having the hardest time waking up; her mind felt sluggish and fuzzy, her tongue seemed to have swelled and grown hair, and she had the most unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth.<p>

It was this last fact that reminded Regina of what had happened to her. She had been up on the top of the Hill at dusk. Dafydd had pulled away from their dancing, saying he would get them some food and firewood to build them a fire, so they could remain on the Hill for a few more hours. She had been up there alone, spinning in lazy circles and swaying along with the Music, when someone had come up behind her and grabbed her, shoving a vial of Pishalver over her mouth when she tried to scream. She had tried to spit it out, but her head had been forced back and the vile liquid had slid down her throat. As she began shrinking, a cloth had been pressed over her face. It must have been a drug similar to chloroform, because shortly after Regina had been hauled onto the back of a Bird, she had passed out.

And now she was… here. In this unknown place. All she knew was that it wasn't Underland; the energy of the land felt foreign, unwelcoming, and the vibrations were jarring to her after so long in Marmoreal and Witzend. Was she over the Sea, then? Or perhaps in the Outlands?

Regina forced her eyelids open, trying to blink away the fuzziness in her vision. When her eyesight cleared, she found herself to be in a tent, securely tied by her wrist to the leg of a desk. There were men in the tent with her, but though they were all looking her way they paid her no attention. The sounds of someone shifting their weight led Regina to realize that someone was standing in her blind spot on the left side, apparently leaning over the desk. So the low droning she was hearing had to be these men talking. Well, she could take advantage of this situation, then. If they weren't paying attention to her, they must not think of her as a threat. They had clearly drugged her to keep her docile, but while physically she was drugged, her mind was more or less functional. This was an opportunity to spy on her captors, to learn as much as she could so she could make her escape plan.

That she had to escape was obvious. Clearly if these men had gone to such lengths to kidnap her, they wanted her for something; ransom money or perhaps to incite a war with Witzend. She had to get out of their control so they would fail in… whatever their goal was. So, what would she need in order to form an escape plan? Well, a clue of where she was in relation to Witzend was obvious. She'd need to figure out who her captors were and why they wanted her. Then there was the matter of escaping her captors and getting home, but she really couldn't think about that until she knew where she was.

Having worked out a rudimentary plan, Regina figured she might as well begin gathering information as quickly as she could. She glanced around the tent, though she didn't move from where she sat slumped against the side of the desk. The tent, though large, was sparsely furnished; everything looked extremely portable and durable. So these were likely a nomadic people. From the way the men were dressed, in rough cloths and leathers with weapons strapped to their waists or backs or legs, it was clear they were warriors. Actually, they looked rather similar to her Fearail… Regina's heart sank. Dafydd had told her that the Nazari were likely close to the mountainous border between Witzend and the Outlands; was it possible that she'd been kidnapped by his relatives?

At the thought of Dafydd, Regina bit her lip. She had no doubt that her Champion knew that she was missing. She also didn't doubt that he was probably frantic with worry, as well as killing himself with angry self-recrimination. She knew that he would be chomping at the bit to come after her; maybe she should just remain here and wait for him?

No, she decided a moment later. If these truly were the Nazari, there was likely to be an ugly confrontation between them and the Fearail. Besides, Regina wasn't the type to sit back and play the damsel in distress. She may be a princess, but she was no weak, helpless thing; she was the daughter of Tarrant Hightopp and [she added reluctantly] Alice Kingsleigh. She had all the tools she needed to free herself, so free herself she would.

Cautiously, Regina looked over her shoulder, up to the figure who stood behind the desk. When she saw the man, her brow furrowed. Physically, with his slight build, blond hair, and slightly angular face, he didn't look very much like Dafydd. But in his stiff, solid soldier's bearing, the set of his jaw, and the steady look in his blue eyes- the look of a commander of men- it was clear to Regina that they were related somehow.

The Nazari looked down and caught Regina's gaze, then smiled. "Ah. I see our guest is awake," he said, sounding surprisingly pleasant for a kidnapper. "Good morning, Princess. Or I suppose I should say, good evening."  
>"How long have I been unconscious?" Regina asked, working to sound docile instead of hostile, and attempting to wet her throat in vein.<br>"A few hours only," he replied.

He picked up a fired clay pitcher from his desk and poured water into a cup, which he handed to her. She sniffed the water suspiciously, but could detect no scent of telltale herbs or potions, so she took a cautious sip. Upon tasting no herbal tinctures or seeing anything in the water, she slowly sipped at it. The water was rather warm, but at least it cleansed her palate of the unpleasant taste of the drugs, even if it wasn't really clearing her head.

"Thank you," she said politely, setting the cup on the ground beside her.  
>"You are most welcome," he replied.<br>"You're being surprisingly gracious, considering I'm your prisoner," Regina commented.  
>He raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. "I see no reason to be uncivil, do you?" he asked pleasantly. "After all, we are not monsters."<p>

_No, merely my kidnappers_, she wanted to say, though she managed to bite her tongue at the last moment. It would hardly do to antagonize this man. _Remain compliant,_ she counseled herself. Unlike Alice, Regina intended to follow the good advice she'd just given herself.

"Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" she asked.  
>"I am Niall, ceann-fine of the Nazari," he replied, sketching a shallow bow. "And you, Princess, have been most unkind to me."<br>"Have I?" she asked, frowning.  
>"You have," he nodded. "It was you, was it not, who claimed the Hassasseen as your own? Who took them as your prisoners?"<br>"They're hardly my prisoners," Regina said. "They're my subjects."  
>"I see," he said pleasantly, though now there was a note of steel in his voice. "So I should tell my brother's Betrothed that he's been away from her because he's your guest, is that right?"<br>Regina paled, really not liking the turn this conversation had taken. "Your brother. You're Dafydd's brother."  
>"You're surprised," Niall commented. "Did Dafydd never tell you about us? Or about his Afanen?"<p>

Regina's eyes widened. Dafydd's brother had been the one to take her prisoner? Oh, this was going to get messy…

Quick on the heels of her surprise that she'd been kidnapped by Dafydd's brother was a sharp, sinking sensation, as if her heart had just plummeted to her stomach. Betrothed? Dafydd was Betrothed? He had never mentioned that… Why hadn't he mentioned it? They had known each other for six months now. Dafydd had told her about his mathair, his two older brothers [though he'd neglected to mention that one of them was the ceann-fine of the entire clan], his nephew and his sister-in-law… but he'd never said a word about a woman named Afanen, let alone that he was Promised to her.

Regina's mind traitorously drifted back to earlier that evening, when she and Dafydd had been alone on the Hill. If he was Betrothed to another woman, what was he doing dancing with Regina like that? Like… oh, she didn't know, as if it _meant_ something? Or was she being silly? Had it truly been meaningless all along, and she was only building up a romance in her mind? It wouldn't be the first time, she admitted to herself...

"No," Regina said faintly, dimly realizing that Niall was still watching her. "No, he never said a word."  
>"I see," Niall said thoughtfully. "Well, I'll be sure to send for Afanen. I'm sure you'd enjoy her company. In the meantime, permit me to introduce you to my men. My cousin, Taran."<p>

Regina turned to look at Taran, who inclined his head, smirking. She swallowed hard, recognizing him as the one who had kidnapped her. Oh, what was Dafydd going to do when he got here and learned that his own family had done this?

Or… was it possible that Dafydd and his men would side with Niall? After all, they were his family; his ties to them must be much stronger than the ones he had to her. What if Dafydd abandoned her, and joined Niall in whatever plot he had up his sleeve?

"Taran was kind enough to transport you here," Niall informed her, breaking into her thoughts. "His brother, Diarmuid. Giobhan, Eoghan, Achill." He smiled, then glanced down at her. "Happy though I am to see you awake, I do wish the drugs had lasted a while longer. It seems rude to discuss your immanent demise when you can hear us."

She felt herself paling as her stomach turned in revulsion. So she was going to be killed, not merely held for ransom. Oh dear Fates… She swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to the floor as she fought back her panic. Surely they weren't going to kill her just now, not if they were going to _discuss_ how to get rid of her?

"What if we just sent her back Up?" one of them- Eoghan, was it?- suggested. "Her memories would be gone, and she'd be no threat."

Regina closed her eyes, trying to keep her breaths even. Did these men know that that very situation was the stuff of her nightmares? It was her greatest fear, that she would find herself back Above, with no memory of her homeland, unable to return. Mirana had told her that memory loss was almost unavoidable when one traveled Above; it was Underland's way of protecting itself. After all, if one didn't remember that Underland existed, one couldn't return to destroy or abuse it for one's own purposes. The only reason Alice had been saved from this fate was because she was Destined to return someday. What if Regina, despite being half Underlandian, wasn't meant to stay? What if the Nazari sent her back, and she lost everything? All memory of her true identity, of the past six months, of her Da?

"No," Niall said, shaking his head. "I agree that might be effective… were it not for the fact that she is the daughter of Alice Kingsleigh. Alice Remembered, if you recall. And she returned. So there's no guarantee that Regina's memories would be erased. Besides, if we sent her Above, Alice would surely follow."

Regina remained silent, knowing it was to her advantage to allow the Nazari to think that. But she knew better. Regina had been brought Above once before, as a helpless infant, and Alice hadn't followed her Up for that very reason- she hadn't wanted to risk her own memories. She had given up her own daughter in order to not lose memories of her life Below. If Regina were to be sent Up again, she knew without a doubt that Alice would not follow. Her Da would be willing to risk his memories to find her… but Tarrant would be absolutely lost Up There. So yes, if the Nazari were to send her Above, it would be a death sentence for her. To be forever cut off from Underland, unable to remember where she truly belonged… Regina swallowed hard, fighting the panic.

"Well, why not marry her off?" one of the others suggested. "Underland's accepted the Hightopps as rulers of Tearmunn, hasn't She? Marry her within your family, Niall, and your claim is legitimized."  
>"That is a thought," Niall said, sounding thoughtful. "To join our royalty to that of Witzend…"<br>"It's past time that Dafydd took a wife," Taran said.

Regina felt herself blushing, and she ducked her head to keep any of the men from seeing it. She wouldn't say that she had thought of marriage, because that wasn't true. But she did have eyes; she was well aware of how attractive her captain was. He was kind, and strong, and a leader of men. Throw in the fact that he was apparently some kind of tribal royalty and Lady Ascot would have been throwing Regina at him, were they in a drawing room in London.

But wait a moment… hadn't Niall just said that Dafydd was Betrothed? So why would they consider marrying him to her, when he already had an Intended waiting for him? Were they really that desperate to usurp her family's claim to Witzend… and did they really think that she would be so docile as to follow this insane plan?

"I won't be your pawn," she said, looking up, feeling her eyes begin to yellow into topaz. "I won't marry into your clan to legitimize whatever claim you think you have on Iplam."  
>"The claim we <em>think<em> we have?" Eoghan said, glaring at her. "You arrogant little usurper!"  
>"Eoghan!" Niall chastised him. "Manners. We'll not treat our guest so ill." He looked down at Regina, seemingly amused. "He does have a point though, little Hightopp. Our claim to the land you call Witzend is far older than your own."<br>Regina scoffed. "You and your people are Outlanders. Banished from Underland generations ago," she said, rubbing salt in the wound. "You have no claim at all. Underland has forgotten your people, Dafydd told me so himself."  
>Niall let out a short bark of laughter. "Your knowledge of history is severely limited, I see. Our people were forced out of Underland by the Adamasi," he said, spitting out the name of Mirana's family. "Your people had no claim on the land until we were removed."<p>

Regina frowned; she had never heard this before. It couldn't be right; the Hightopps had been given Witzend when they first came to Underland with the first High King! Where had Niall gotten his history?

"And why should you not marry my brother?" Niall asked, clearly enjoying Regina's squirm of discomfort. "He is young and strong, just as capable a leader as any princeling in Underland. Or do you find him so far beneath you?" he sneered.  
>"I'll thank you not to paint me as an elitist," Regina spat back. "I've named Dafydd as my Champion, and the Fearail are my Deuces. My personal guard. You needn't think I treat him or his men like dirt."<br>"Your Champion!" Niall said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Then by your own laws he has a claim to your hand- if a Queen doesn't find a suitor to her liking, then her Ace becomes her husband. And really, Princess, if the choice came between marriage to a prince of the Nazari or your own death, which would you choose?"  
>"I will not marry to further along your politics," she stated. "Especially not if doing so breaks an existing Betrothal, as you've said Dafydd has."<br>Niall sighed. "You've heard her, men. So you see, if she refuses to cooperate with us, I'm afraid killing her is our only option."  
>"Why not just hold her prisoner? Ransom her off for the kingdom?" Achill suggested, sounding bored.<br>"Because if I have judged Alice correctly, she will never surrender her kingdom. Not even for her daughter," Niall said, a cruel smile on his face.

Regina looked down at the ground, silently acknowledging the truth of Niall's statement. Alice in the past year had clearly demonstrated her priorities. Her top concern was for Witzend- expanding trade, securing the country and its inhabitants. Everything else was secondary to that, obviously; she had even turned down attending the Restoration of the Music on Hightopp Hill, a ceremony which was easily the most important of Tarrant's life, because she wanted to secure trade agreements. No, Alice would not surrender Witzend. And the truth of that statement hurt, to know that Alice valued her daughter less than she valued her power.

"Alright," Taran said. "Death it is. Shall we do it here?"

Regina tensed, her heart beginning to race. Oh dear Fates, not here… she wasn't ready to die yet. To be murdered here, tonight, in this tent, without a chance to say goodbye… to be denied even the chance to fight for her freedom…!

"No," Niall said. "Not here. We're too close to the borders here. Alice and Tarrant are sure to come after their princess, we wouldn't want them to stumble across her body."  
>"Ah," Taran said, following a thought train Regina couldn't decipher. "The gorges."<br>"The gorges," Niall repeated, with a slight nod.

Regina didn't like the sound of that.

"We can leave tomorrow," Taran suggested. "I'll take her off, you can stay here and wait for the Hightopps to arrive."  
>"Agreed," Niall nodded. "With any luck, my brother and his men will be accompanying the Duke and Duchess of Iplam, and will be ready to join us."<br>"Dafydd won't join you," Regina spat out, seeing no need to be civil now that she knew she was to be killed.  
>Niall rose an eyebrow, glancing down at her. "And why should he be loyal to you?" he asked. "Dafydd more than anyone wants to return to our ancestral lands. That's the whole reason he and his men joined the Red King."<p>

Regina glared at Niall, trying to keep the icy tendrils of fear from quenching her anger. Surely Dafydd wouldn't betray her, wouldn't join his brother and aid in killing her parents, accepting her murder… would he? Yes, he had told her on the chessboard battlefield that he and his men had joined the Knave in order to gain land for their families… But Regina had promised the Fearail that… They wouldn't betray her… Dafydd wouldn't turn his back on her… Would he?

Once again, her mind drifted back to earlier that evening, when she and Dafydd had danced on the Hill. Dafydd had seemed entranced by the Music of her ancestors… he had looked about the Hill with such longing, such wonder… She felt sick at the memory. Surely he wouldn't betray her so he could claim her homeland for himself…?

Niall, who had been watching Regina's inner battle, smiled when her glare faltered. "I think you'll find that the Music of Tearmunn will outweigh any paltry vow he made to you," he told her. "Tearmunn is our home, Princess. Dafydd will be loyal to Her first and foremost, and his promises to Her will override any promises he ever made to you. All you ever were was his shield to get back home. Nothing more."  
>"It's not true," she whispered, but her voice was weak, as was her hope that she was right.<br>Niall inclined his head, though he was still smiling. "As you say," he said, shrugging, clearly not believing her.

Regina closed her eyes, feeling how her irises were losing color and turning gray, knowing that her hair and skin were beginning to dull. She wished that Niall was lying, but she had to admit that he was probably right. When faced with the choice of rejoining his brother or keeping a promise to a foreign princess, and one who laid claim to his ancestral land, who was Dafydd more likely to join? She didn't stand a chance. The Fearail would rejoin the Nazari, and Regina and her family would be wiped out. Witzend would fall to the Nazari, and all trace of the Hightopps would be forever lost.

Unless Regina managed to escape. If she could get away, somehow make it back to Underland… if she could rouse her forces at Crims, and gather Alice's army in Witzend… Perhaps they would stand a chance. She could keep her da from walking into a trap, prevent the war that Niall was going to wage on her home, maybe even keep from losing her Fearail. Yes, it was clear that she was Witzend's only hope; everything hinged upon escape.

"Tomorrow morning then, Taran," Niall decided.  
>"Agreed," Taran nodded.<p>

Regina's breath caught in her throat. Tomorrow morning! That left her with no time at all! Which, she knew, was the point. Niall wasn't a fool; he knew that a rescue party was coming for Regina, knew that they must be close enough to Witzend that the rescuers could reach them quickly. If they wanted to force a war, everything must be done quickly.

She would just have to be quicker than they were.


	5. Rescue

**Author's Note**: First of all, I apologize for keeping you waiting for this chapter for so long. It's Lily's fault. I've lamented a few times about my characters holding me hostage and taking me on a 48-hour whirlwind editing spree. They added plot twists, sub-plots, new scenes, and they assured me that I'd be rewriting every chapter of Book Two [so far, that's been pretty accurate]. This chapter was held hostage by Lily demanding that I get her story line going.

Originally, Lily didn't have a plot at all; she was just going to be comic relief. But then she had the audacity to develop into a fully fleshed-out character, and she became important to the plot of what is now Book Four. Which meant that I had to go back and retroactively fit her in to the plot of Book Two. So yeah, from this point on, everything you're reading about Lily was added to the story about six months after I'd finished writing the original draft of Book Two. Her POV in this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, and it's the reason why this chapter wasn't out a week ago.

Tarrant and Dafydd also surprised me when I was originally writing this chapter. I hadn't originally planned for Dafydd to reveal quite so much as he does. But I can't be mad at him for it, because the confrontation between Tarrant and Dafydd was so great. The dynamics of their relationship are a joy for me to play with.

**Naming Note**: The name Shadhavar comes from a creature in Persian mythology. I got the title Marquis of Lutwidge from Lewis Carroll's real name.

**Disclaimer**: A bit of the history of Underland is inspired by the myth of Atlantis, as well as the pseudo-mythology of Tolkien [the fall of Gondolin, which is also based off the Atlantis myth]. Pretty much because I couldn't help myself.

**Special Thanks**: My beta Thirteen Thorns was instrumental in helping me get through Lily's POV. I hated the original version of the scene I wrote, and she was the one to help me fix it and find ways to ensure that Lily's story works the way I want it to. A million thanks to her!

* * *

><p>The rescue party was largely silent as Tarrant led the way through Witzend towards the border mountains. It was hard to say who was more grim and displeased; Alice looked murderous as she held herself stiffly upright on Lewis, Tarrant was darkly brooding as he swayed in Windmare's saddle, and Dafydd's silence was so absolute and choking that it was astounding he was still breathing. No one spoke, but their anger with each other and their fear for Regina was clear in the set of their shoulders, their rigid postures.<p>

For a while, the silence suited Alice just fine. After all, she wasn't particularly pleased with either of her travel companions, and she didn't particularly want their company. However, the longer she sat lost in the silence, the more she began to sink into her own mind, which was nothing so much as a writhing, coiling mass of snakes, hissing her fears and angers back to her. Her fears for Regina's safety, her uneasy certainty that Regina would not thank her for being part of the rescue party, her anger at Dafydd for failing to protect Regina, her hatred of herself for not coming along to Hightopp Hill in the first place… No, Alice could not abide her own mind right now.

"Tell me about the Outlands, Dafydd," she said suddenly, desperate to escape her own thoughts.

At first, Dafydd didn't really register that Alice had spoken. And then it took him another moment to process what she'd said. Those two seconds, however, were all it took for him to get angry all over again. So first Alice would heap abuse on their heads for their failure to protect Regina, and then she would join the rescue party when she clearly wasn't up to it, and now she was going to order him around?

Maybe Ioan had been right; maybe traveling alone with the Blue Royals wasn't his brightest idea.

Still, he had two choices- talk to Alice, or wrestle with his own dark thoughts, with the drums pounding in his brain that screamed for war and blood and destruction and death. He couldn't give in to the drums, and however he felt about Regina's mother, she was still Alice the Champion and could prove to be a useful ally in the Outlands. So he caved to the inevitable, and pulled Arturias abreast with Lewis.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.  
>"Anything useful," Alice said. "History, topography, how your people came to be there. Anything that might help us find my child."<br>Dafydd shrugged. "My clan ended up there the same way most Outlanders did- we were banished by an Adamasi king. There are legends that some of the Animal clans have been out there since the arrival of the first High King and his Hightopp attendants pushed them out."  
>"You malign my ancestors when you speak thus, you scallywag," Tarrant chimed in.<p>

Though he was frowning, the sickly topaz of his eyes eased a bit, the dark bruise-like shadows around his eyes receding. Alice couldn't pretend she wasn't glad to see it, even though she was well aware that Dafydd and Tarrant were going to begin another bout of their verbal sparring. Regina was always tickled when the two of them got to bantering… Wincing, Alice shied away from the painful thought. She didn't want to think about her daughter right now; fast on those thoughts came guilt and regret and fear and she really didn't want to deal with any of that right now.

"The Hightopps pushed no one off their land," Tarrant continued.  
>"Perhaps the Hightopps didn't, but the Adamasi surely did," Dafydd said, and he wasn't completely successful in hiding the bitterness in his voice.<br>"I didn't know the Hightopps weren't always here," Alice said curiously. "Where did they come from?"  
>"From Over-Sea," Tarrant replied. "An island kingdom that sank beneath the waves. And the Adamasi held an alliance with the Outlands for generations," he shot back at Dafydd.<br>"True enough," Dafydd acknowledged. "Until Aleric came to the throne," he added, biting off the words and spitting out Aleric's name as though it were the filthiest of curses. "Aleric is the one who banished my people to the Outlands, because we refused to fight in his wars. Which were unfounded," he said acerbically.  
>"Aye, they were," Tarrant allowed. "Aleric was a bit of a warmonger. That's how Queast and Marmoreal were added to Underland's borders," he informed Alice coolly, barely sparing her a glance. "Before Aleric, the High Kings resided in Crims."<br>"Did they?" Alice asked, intrigued. "Why the change?"  
>"The Shuffling of the Deck," Tarrant replied. "Aleric was deposed and his crown was given to his wife, Amalia, the first High Queen. Amalia decreed that from then on, Underland would be ruled by Queens, and the Queens would shuffle the crown of the High Queen between them, to prevent one Suit from ruling supreme over the others. After the Red Queen was banished, Mirana took the crown as High Queen, so Marmoreal is now the seat of Underland."<br>"How interesting," Alice murmured. "But by the time Amalia took the crown, the Nazari were already banished."

Alice would have preferred to remain distrustful of Dafydd and his compatriots. They had been a threat, after all; the same men who had been sent into Underland by Stayne in order to attack her daughter. Alice didn't want to feel sorry for Dafydd. Especially not now, when his clan was responsible for her daughter's abduction. They were the enemy; she didn't want to relate to them.

But she couldn't help but feel for Dafydd, and his entire clan. It must have been very hard for them to be exiled from their homeland, and for such an unjust reason. Alice knew what it was like to be separated from the sustaining magic of Underland; could she really blame the Nazari for wanting to return home? Of course, she abhorred the action they had taken in their attempt to return; she could not, and would not, forgive them for kidnapping her daughter and waging war on her. But she understood the impulse behind it.

"Aye," Dafydd nodded. "The Outlands are desert now. Very little water anywhere, and the sun's relentless. Most Outlanders banded together in the oases and formed city-states. Then there's the bands of Centaurs and Sirens."  
>"Are your people the only nomads?" Alice asked.<br>"No," Dafydd negated. "But we're the largest clan. We probably won't run into anyone else though, not if Niall's as close to the mountains as I think he is."  
>"I see," Alice replied, biting her lip.<p>

Well, that was troubling. On the one hand, it was wonderful that Regina wasn't terribly far away; the more quickly they could get to her, the more likely that they'd find her alive and unharmed. But if the Nazari were that close to the mountains, it meant they were also very close to invading Underland. Regina might be willing to offer the Nazari sanctuary in Crims, but Alice wasn't comfortable with them being that close to their ancestral homelands.

"Will they hold her hostage for ransom?" Alice asked.  
>"It's possible," Dafydd allowed. "Niall probably won't want to kill her. She's too valuable a bartering chip. He could use her to…" He paused, shooting a covert glance at Tarrant, before reluctantly continuing. "To legitimize his claim to Iplam."<p>

Tarrant stiffened, his face instantly closing itself off and freezing into an expressionless mask. Alice glanced between the two men, wondering what conclusions Tarrant was coming to and what undercurrents she was missing.

"Iplam," he said flatly.  
>Dafydd sighed and looked at Tarrant fully, resigned and apologetic and steadfast all at once. "Iplam is Tearmunn. Our homeland."<p>

Tarrant yanked on Windmare's reigns, pulling the Horse to a stop, and stared at Dafydd in amazement. For a long moment he didn't speak, merely stared at the young Outlander as though he'd never seen him before.

"Of course," he breathed. "The Nazari, the Fearail… you're _those_. The Lost Ones."  
>"Is that what your kin called us?" Dafydd asked softly. "I didn't think they ever spoke of us again."<br>"Not often," Tarrant allowed. "But everyone heard the tales of the Wandering Ones at least once. That's how you knew about the Music."  
>"Aye," Dafydd confirmed.<p>

Alice's breath caught in her throat as Tarrant's irises faded back to sickly yellow-brown, dark bruises appearing around his eyes. His mouth twisted in a snarl as his fingers, claw-like, tightened around the reins.

"Teel me, laddie," Tarrant glared, hand twitching around the pommel of his claymore. "Was 'at yer plan frae th' start? Charm mah bairn intae trustin' ye, likin' ye, sae she'd leid ye tae th' Brae? Waur ye plannin' oan soakin' in th' Magic ay th' Hightopps an' usin' it tae claeem th' lain fur yerself? Waur ye an' yer men workin' in league wi' th' villains 'at stole mah Regina?" he roared, his accent growing thicker with every word until he burred so badly that Alice could hardly understand him.

Dafydd remained silent while Tarrant accused him. When Tarrant finished, Dafydd squared his shoulders and looked Tarrant dead in the eye as he quietly defended himself.

"I won't pretend that wasn't our reason for allying with Stayne," he acknowledged. "He promised to lift our banishment and give us our land back, if we invaded and killed you, and the High Queen, and Regina. In the beginning, that was why we agreed to come to Crims," he admitted, pausing for a moment before continuing. "But not now. We felt the magic on the Hill, but we can't hear it. The land has forgotten us. And even if I wanted to reclaim Tearmunn…" He shook his head as a muscle in his jaw twitched. "I would never trade Regina for that. Not now."

Tarrant's eyes narrowed and his glare became, if possible, even more filled with hatred and anger. And while Alice wasn't overly fond of Dafydd, she had to give him credit; he didn't flinch beneath Tarrant's glare. He held his ground, meeting Tarrant's gaze squarely. That took a good deal of courage, and she grudgingly respected him for being man enough to face Tarrant's hatred. Besides, she couldn't risk him getting killed by an angry Hatter; he was their guide, after all.

"Now isn't the time to lay blame," she pointedly said. "We need to focus on Regina."

As Alice had gambled, Regina's name held power enough over Tarrant's psyche to recall him to himself. Dangerous- and dangerously close to Madness- he was, but Alice had known that he would push it aside for his daughter. Ignoring Tarrant so that he could pull himself back together, Alice refocused on Dafydd.

"So they won't kill her," she said, trying to look at this situation as pragmatically as she could.  
>"Probably not," Dafydd agreed. "Niall might try to get her to see things his way."<p>

And Dafydd knew exactly how Niall would do it; he'd offer Regina a marriage deal. Which, frankly, was embarrassing. He didn't need his brother to arrange his marriage for him. Fates, the last time Niall had tried that, it had ended in disaster with his Betrothed, Afanen, having an affair with his cousin Taran, among a laundry list of others. Anyways, the idea of he and Regina being forced into marriage, and for such a manipulative, selfish reason… it made his stomach turn. He couldn't do that to her, couldn't let her be trapped like that. Especially not after everything he'd almost done to her. He'd once wanted to steal her birthright by force and murder; how could he condone stealing it from her through marriage? How could he negate his promises to her like that?

"She won't go along with it," Tarrant declared, his eyes fierce as they scanned the horizon.  
>"I'm sure she won't," Dafydd said wryly. "But if Niall tries to convince her, it buys us time."<br>"And if he loses patience?" Alice pressed.  
>Dafydd's face darkened, and he clenched his jaw. "He'll invade," he replied shortly. "And he'll dispose of Regina. My guess would be the Gulges."<p>

Alice felt her stomach dropping; she didn't like the sound of that. _Hold onto your Muchness, girl_, she berated herself.

"What are the Gulges?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.  
>"It's a maze of a canyon," he replied. "No one really goes there. Niall will either have her killed outright, or he'll just set her loose in the gorge. Even if she did make it out, it's still in the middle of nowhere. No shade, no water. She wouldn't stand a chance."<br>"Then we must find your people before Niall sends her away," Alice said determinedly. "What's the easiest route into the Outlands?"  
>"There isn't one," Tarrant replied shortly.<br>"Aleric bewitched the mountains," Dafydd explained upon seeing Alice's confused face. "Getting into the Outlands is hard enough, but the spell was meant to make it impossible to get back out again."  
>"But you're here," Alice pointed out. "Your men are here. Clearly it's not impossible."<br>"Nothing's impossible," Tarrant reminded her, barely even turning his head to glance over his shoulder at her. "But it will be slow going."

Alice bristled at the implication. She knew that she had Aged, that she wasn't as spry has she had been once. But to insinuate that she would slow the rescue party down, that she couldn't keep up with them! What had happened to the Hatter she remembered? This angry, insulting man was intolerable; she wanted her Hatter to be with her, to help her find their child.

"You're no spring rooster yourself, Hatter," she snapped. "Set the pace and I shall keep up."

Tarrant rolled his eyes in irritation, but didn't bother to grace her with a reply. He simply spurred Windmare on, turning towards the looming mountains ahead. Alice gritted her teeth in discomfort; by the Butterfly, her joints were already aching from Lewis' rolling gait. But she was determined not to slow them down; she wouldn't give Tarrant the satisfaction of holding it over her head that he'd been right. So she clenched her jaw and followed him, glaring at his back. And following along behind them, Dafydd allowed himself the luxury of slapping his palm against his forehead, sighing heavily. At this rate, it would be a miracle if they found Regina before they all killed each other…

_Hold on, dearbadan-de_, he silently pleaded with her. _I don't know if we'll get to you in one piece, but we're coming… just hold on a little while longer…_

* * *

><p>Lily hurried through the halls of the palace, gripping her filmy skirts in both hands as she rushed towards her mother's study. The palace had been buzzing with rumors all evening; even the walls had been whispering to each other in speculation. Rumor had it that the Azure Princess had been stolen, <em>again<em>. That the Blue Queen and the Sapphire King were mounting an army to rescue her. That the Oraculum had nothing to say on the matter. That the Princess' Outlandish bodyguards had all been expelled from Witzend by the Blue Queen. In general, Lily ignored the rumors whispered behind the fans of the ladies of the Court. One would be wise not to believe everything one heard in a Court whose Queen was the Mistress of White Lies.

However, when Lily had tried to contact Regina using their matching set of hand mirrors, she had been unable to connect to her cousin. Given that the Princesses communicated using this method at least twice a day, the fact that Regina's mirror was suddenly unavailable was strange. True, Regina was currently at her beloved Hightopp Hill; perhaps she was busy dancing on the Hill again and had left her mirror in her room. But then why would the Court be buzzing with rumors of abduction, when everyone knew where Regina and Tarrant had gone? And, for that matter, how in all the Days had this rumor gotten started, anyways?

Therefore, Lily was hurrying to her mother, her short black curls bobbing about her pretty face as she approached the study. No one had seen the White Queen since this afternoon; according to the doorknobs, who always knew everything, she had locked herself in the study and would not be disturbed. That seemed to point to a serious situation; it was a rare Day that Mirana ignored her duties to the Court and cloistered herself.

"Ooooh!" the doorknob complained when Lily grasped it. "I'm locked, you know."  
>"Then unlock yourself," Lily said. "I must see my mother."<br>"Lily?" Mirana's voice sounded from behind the door. "Is that you?"  
>"Yes, Mother," Lily replied. "The doorknob won't let me in."<br>"Twist, would you mind?" Mirana asked.  
>"Of course, Your Majesty," Twist said, twisting itself.<br>"Honestly," Lily muttered, rolling her eyes at the temperamental knob before walking into the study. "Mother?"  
>"Close the door please, Lily," Mirana requested.<p>

Lily did as she was told, then paused, evaluating the scene before her. She wasn't well acquainted with the Duke of Tenniel; after all, the Red Lion was loyal to Crims, not Marmoreal. And besides that, the Lions hadn't been seen in Underland since Iracebeth seized the throne. Leferidae had only reappeared in Crims once Regina defeated Stayne in battle six months ago. Still, in that six months' acquaintance she was quite certain she had never seen him this angry before. His tail twitched agitatedly, his claws threatened to utterly destroy the chair he was gripping, and the force of his glare was truly frightening. But Leferidae was supposed to be in Crims; what was he doing glaring at Mirana?

Standing just behind Mirana, one hoof resting on his hip near his sword, was Shadhavar, the Marquis of Lutwidge. The Unicorn had been the servant of the White Royals since time immemorial; for as long as Lily could remember, Shadhavar had been there, guiding, advising, defending and occasionally acting as Mirana's regent. Idly, Lily wondered if the Lion and Unicorn would come to blows, as their ancestors had once done. Certainly, Shadhavar was displeased with Leferidae; he kept shifting his weight, ready to step between the Lion and Mirana, if it- whatever "it" was- came to that.

The High Queen, for her part, stood behind her desk. Clearly, she and Leferidae had been Having Words; though Mirana's face looked clear and unconcerned, it was clear from the set of her jaw that she was steeled for battle. Her mother's uncustomary stillness unnerved Lily and made her suddenly unsure of what she had walked into.

"Mother?" she asked warily. "What's happened?"  
>"You've heard the rumors, I assume," Mirana said.<br>Lily nodded, a terrifying possibility beginning to form in her mind. "Are they true?"  
>"If every rumor whispered in my Court was true, Underland would have fallen into anarchy seven times over by now," Mirana said.<p>

A brief smile graced her pale face. However, the instant Leferidae growled low in his throat, the Queen's visage sobered again. Shadhavar shot Leferidae a quelling look, stamping a hoof in irritation. The Lion and the Unicorn exchanged a glance, having a silent conversation in a moment, before the Lion backed down, looking away with a scowl. Ignoring the Animals' silent conference, Mirana motioned Lily forward, indicating a small, blue-green Egg resting on a thick cushion beneath the warm glow of a lamp.

"The truth, I'm afraid, is worse than the rumors," she said, her voice soft. "Yes, it is true that Regina has been kidnapped-"  
>"Again?" Lily interrupted. "Are we sure she's not part Fish? She's awfully slippery."<br>"Well, she is the daughter of the Hatter. Perhaps she's made of mercury," Mirana said, her lips quirking in a smile again.  
>"Well, that too. So she must be a merfish," Lily shrugged. "Who took her this time?"<br>Mirana delicately cleared her throat. "I don't know."  
>Lily frowned. "You don't know? How could you not know? Wouldn't the Oraculum-"<br>"Yes, it would, if it still existed," Mirana cut Lily off. "But the Oraculum was destroyed when Absolem Faded."  
>Lily froze, staring, her eyes wide. "Destroyed?"<br>"I'm afraid so," Mirana nodded. "You must not tell anyone that this has happened, Lily, do you understand? We have enough to deal with, without the people flying into a panic because we no longer have an Oracle."  
>"Yes Mother," Lily said, her voice subdued. "What will we do now?"<br>"We will wait for the new Oracle to be born," Mirana replied, indicating the Sac on her desk. "And we'll wait for Tarrant, Alice and Dafydd to bring Regina home."  
>"Just the three of them alone?" Lily asked, skeptical. "But Alice and Tarrant-"<br>"I know," Mirana cut her off again, holding up a hand to quell any more arguments. "But despite how they feel about each other, they are still Regina's parents, and it's their right to go after her."  
>"And it's my right to protect my Queen," Leferidae growled, glaring at Mirana in irritation.<br>"No, Leferidae, that's Dafydd's right as Champion," Shadhavar corrected him.  
>"I don't trust the cub to keep her safe," Leferidae argued. "He doesn't even see her clearly-"<br>"Be that as it may, it is his right to protect her," the Unicorn interrupted. "Your job as the Red Lion is to preserve the queendom until your Queen returns."

Behind their backs, Lily rolled her eyes at the pair of them. Did they really think that arguing like this was going to help bring Regina home safely?

"Mother, if the Oraculum can't help us, how will Alice and Tarrant find her? We don't even know where she is!" she pointed out.  
>"That's why Dafydd's gone with them," Mirana said. "He could track Regina to the ends of either world."<p>

Lily sighed softly and quirked an eyebrow, shrugging and conceding the point. The great hulking Outlander had been shadowing Regina's steps for months; he probably knew her better than even Lily did. If anyone could track Regina down, it would be Dafydd. Even if he was tied up with Alice and Tarrant.

"But there's nothing _we_ can do?" Lily pressed. "I can't just sit here, helpless!"  
>"This is not our quest, Lily," Mirana said, a note of finality in her voice. "This quest was given to Alice, Tarrant and Dafydd for a reason. We cannot interfere."<p>

Alright, Lily understood Leferidae's frustration now.

She beat a hasty retreat back to her own rooms, frowning as she stalked through the halls. How could her mother ask her to just sit around when Regina was in trouble? Regina was her best friend, her cousin; Lily couldn't countenance not coming to her aid.

Her mother was constantly pulling her back, Lily thought with a scowl as she paced through her chambers. Lily had wanted to join the battle against the Knave on the chessfield, but Mirana had refused that, too. Just because she was a Princess, that didn't mean she was helpless! Her father had been training her in swordplay and survival skills her entire life. She was just as capable as Tarrant and Alice at finding Regina. Indeed, she had a distinct advantage over them, being younger and not as Mad.

It wasn't that she doubted Dafydd, she thought. She knew that Regina's Outlandish Champion was perfectly capable of finding Regina all by himself. It wasn't a contest to see who the better tracker was. But Regina was probably lost and afraid and alone, and in need of a hug. Brilliant Champion Dafydd might be, but Lily highly doubted he could do for Regina what another woman could do, simply by being a shoulder to lean on. Absolem knew that Regina wouldn't care to lean on her mother's shoulder; Lily was the only logical choice.

A purring, thoughtful voice broke into Lily's thoughts, seemingly plucking her thoughts out of her head and voicing them.

"You know, if it was my cousin missing, I'd stop at nothing to find her."

Lily turned, blinking in surprise to see Witzend lounging on her bed. Lily hadn't seen much of Regina's Kitten lately; she'd been spending much of her time with the Cheshire Cat doing Underland only knew what. Witzend had certainly never sought Lily out like this before.

"I can't just sneak out," Lily pointed out. "Mother would send Pawns after me the second anyone realized I was missing."  
>"Seems to me that you need to be in two places at once," Witzend said complacently, licking her paw.<br>"I have yet to hear of anyone who's pulled that off," Lily rolled her eyes.  
>Witzend looked up at Lily, tilting her head. "The Hatter pulled it off."<br>"Yes, but he had Chess-"

Lily cut herself off mid-sentence as that thought caught up to her. She refocused on Witzend to find the Cat smiling at her smugly.

"I can't masquerade as you indefinitely, you know," Witzend purred. "I have other people to take care of. But I can give you at least a few hours; long enough to get to Iplam."  
>Lily frowned. "Iplam?"<br>"Regina's in the Outlands. With Dafydd's kin," Witzend frowned. "You'll need a guide who knows that land. Fortunately for you, there are eleven such guides currently in Iplam."  
>"Ohhh," Lily nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Witzend."<p>

Witzend jumped down from the bed gracefully, trotting over to Lily and twining around her ankles. She rubbed against Lily's leg, batting at her skirts until Lily leaned down to pet her.

"Ouch!" Lily exclaimed, jerking back and shaking her hand. "What was that for?" she demanded, frowning at the beads of blood welling up from the scratches on the back of her hand.  
>"I need blood to make this work," Witzend informed her apologetically, wrinkling her nose as she licked at the blood on her claws. "Ugh. You taste like licorice. I hate licorice."<br>"My apologies," Lily said acerbically.

Witzend didn't reply. The Cat sat perfectly still, closing her eyes. Lily watched, fascinated, as the air around the Cat began to waver, as if she were looking at Witzend through steam. And then Witzend herself began to waver, and to change. Lily watched, fascinated, as Witzend's body began to curve and turn white, as her legs disappeared beneath a billow of white, as her ears slid down her skull and the hairs on top of her head darkened and grew longer. Moments later, the No-Longer-Cat stood, shaking out her frothy white skirts.

"Well," Lily said blankly, staring at her doppelganger. "This is certainly odd."  
>"I find it odder that you're standing and gawking at me instead of changing and sneaking out of the palace," the Other Lily replied, folding her arms. "I can't do everything for you."<p>

Shaking her head, Lily rushed into her dressing room. Witzend-Lily followed, tugging at the buttons on her dress.

"I always thought opposable thumbs would be lovely," she said, sounding frustrated. "But they're slippery little buggers."  
>"Well, you have time to practice with them," Lily pointed out.<p>

She kicked aside her dress and hurriedly changed into the breeches, boots and poet's shirt she wore to practice with her weapons. She grabbed a knapsack and quickly filled it with a few essentials- flint and tinder, water skins, a blanket, dried jerky, and coins for bartering. Snatching up her dagger belt and her bow and quiver of arrows, she headed outside, trying to look like she was merely going down to the practice fields for some exercise.

Fortunately, the palace gardens were miraculously deserted, and Lily wasn't accosted as she hurried to the stables. She peeked through the door, and upon finding everything quiet she walked to her Bear's stable, placing a finger on her lips to warn the other Animals to silence.

"Feel like a run, my friend?" she asked as she let herself into the Bear's stall.  
>"You look heavy," Urso frowned. "Why all the extra limbs?"<br>"Wha-? Oh," Lily said, glancing at her weapons. "I'll explain on the way."

Urso sighed, lumbering to his feet. He stood patiently while Lily strapped on his saddle, then followed Lily out to the yard.

"I hope I get honey for this," he commented as Lily clambered into the saddle.  
>"And some berries, if you hurry," Lily promised him.<p>

In an instant, Urso was off, carrying Lily away from Marmoreal and towards Iplam. Urso wasn't the fastest of Animals, but Time must have been feeling unusually generous, because it didn't take as long to cross Underland as Lily would have thought. Usually it took at least a few hours to cross the breadth of Underland, but Lily was arriving in Iplam before the sun had fully set.

Urso drew to a stop in front of the High House. Lily slid off the Bear's back, looking around. It was very quiet, and Lily frowned; had she missed the Fearail? Had they already returned to Crims?

"Hello?" she called. "Anyone home?"  
>"Princess Lily? What are you doing here?"<p>

Lily turned around to face one of Regina's Deuces [she had never learned all of their names]. In all honestly, Lily didn't have much patience for Regina's guards; they were all brusque to the point of rudeness, and they tended to keep as far away from Lily and her siblings as possible. She had no idea what their problem was, and she had no patience to find out right now. Not when she was on a mission.

"I've come to go after Gigi," she informed him. "Have Dafydd and the Blue Royals left yet?"  
>"This morning," the Deuce shrugged dismissively. "You might as well go home, Princess. I doubt you'd help 'em any."<br>"And what's that supposed to mean?" Lily asked, folding her arms.  
>"Look, no offense, Princess, but I doubt you'd be much use to three Champions," another of the Deuces chimed in. "They'd end up so busy protecting your precious hide that they'd have no time to find Regina."<br>"How dare you!" Lily scowled. "You know nothing about me!"  
>"Oh, we know everything about you, Adamasi," another of the Deuces said as he ambled up, a sneer on his face. "You're just like the rest of your kind. Arrogant, spoiled, and cruel."<br>"Excuse me?" Lily spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "I have done nothing to any of you."  
>"You and your kind have done plenty," a Deuce spat back, glaring at her. "Go home and leave Regina to us."<br>"Enough."

Lily watched the Deuces all shut up in unison, every last one of them refocusing on a point over Lily's shoulder. She turned, silently thanking the stars. Apart from Dafydd, Ioan was the only Fearail Lily was really familiar with. Ioan might not be the courtliest gentleman she'd ever met; as a matter of fact he was acerbic and blunt and never genteel in anything he did. But that was why she enjoyed his company. That and the fact that he wasn't quite as rude as the rest of the Deuces. Surely he could help her.

"What are you doing here, Princess?" Ioan asked coolly.

Or perhaps not.

"I'm going to the Outlands to find Gigi," she replied staunchly.  
>"Right," Ioan said. "And what makes you think that you're better qualified than Dafydd?"<br>"I never said I was," Lily retorted. "But I can't just sit and do nothing while my cousin is in danger. When Dafydd finds her, she's going to need me."  
>"I don't have time to argue this with you," Ioan said.<br>"Good. Then we won't argue. Where's your Horse, I'll get Urso and we'll leave," Lily said stubbornly.  
>"Ioan, leave her with us, we'll take care of her," one of the Deuces broke in. "You have to go now if you're going to catch up with him."<br>"You're already going after Dafydd? Perfect," Lily said, throwing her arms up. "Why are we wasting time?"  
>"Go <em>home<em>, Princess," one of the Deuces snapped. "This isn't your concern-"  
>"She's coming with me," Ioan said suddenly.<br>"I am?" Lily blinked in surprise.  
>"She's what?" one of the Deuces echoed.<br>Ioan glanced at his men. "When we find Regina, she'll need some feminine comfort, and we all know she won't want her mother," he pointed out. "At the very least, she'll be enough to distract Niall."

Lily had no idea what Ioan was talking about, but if it got him to bring her along with him, she wasn't about to question him.

"Stars help you, Ioan," one of the Deuces said sardonically.  
>"They'll have to, if I'm going to find Dafydd before he loses it," Ioan sighed. "Hope you're ready to travel, Princess."<br>"Ready when you are," Lily nodded.

Ioan nodded shortly, then whistled for his Horse. As the magnificent Stallion trotted up to him, Lily swung herself onto Urso, hoping that Ioan would lead them quickly.

"Owain's in charge," he informed the Deuces. "Remember what Dafydd said. Scout the woods for the basic healing herbs and food for when we get back. I want one of you to go to Crims and tell Leferidae what's going on. Hopefully we'll all be back in a couple of days."

Ioan glanced at Lily, raising his eyebrows in question. She nodded shortly, spurring Urso on and following as Ioan led them off on the start of their adventure.

* * *

><p>Regina hadn't slept at all. She considered this a great testament to her will, because the drugs she'd been given still hadn't completely worn off yet. It would have been so easy to give in to the drowsiness and sleep away her worries. Instead, she had fought to stay awake, knowing that if she wanted to escape her captors, she had to come up with a plan in these hours while they slept.<p>

At least she'd been comfortable through the hours of her vigil. To her surprise, Niall had ordered a couch to be procured for her. He had removed the rope from her wrist- only to attach a longer length of rope to her ankle that kept her tethered to the couch, it was true, but at least she was able to move now. She was even able to pace a little, and she'd always found it easier to think while pacing…

If only there was something useful for escape! Niall hadn't been so stupid as to leave out weapons for her, nor anything so helpful as pishalver or upelkuchen. Granted, he had left a map of the Outlands on his desk, and Regina had studied it intently. From markings made on the map, she'd been able to figure out roughly where she was, and what she assumed were the gorges she would be taken to. After studying the map, she was sure that if she followed the river upstream it would lead her to the mountains, and she could climb over them to get home.

So really, the only plan she had was to somehow overpower her captor once he'd gotten her alone, and then follow the river to make her escape. She didn't like her plan; it was too sketchy, left too much to chance, and it would inevitably involve killing. But what else could she do? She couldn't very well give up. She was the Azure Princess of Witzend, for the Butterfly's sake; the daughter of two Champions of Underland. Her parents had never given up on anything in their life [with the possible exception of rescuing her as a baby, but that was a whole other cup of badly-made tea], and neither would she.

Resigning herself to her plan, Regina had curled up on the couch, overwhelmed by a wave of loneliness. It occurred to her, as she lay there staring into the dark, that she didn't feel safe. Which of course should have been obvious; she was, after all, in enemy territory, kidnapped by men who were going to kill her. But despite the threat of death hanging over her head, she hadn't paid attention to the danger she was in until she tried to recline.

It was the fact that Dafydd wasn't there, she realized suddenly. For months now he had constantly watched over her, sleeping on a pallet at the foot of her bed every night. Every night for six months, she had fallen asleep to the sound of his breathing, and now the silence was keeping her awake. She felt the loss of him, and it made her feel afraid and vulnerable. Funny, that she'd become so dependent upon him in such a short period of time. She'd become so used to having him always a step behind her; his absence now was overwhelming and left her completely unsure of herself. How she wished he were here with her right now…

She shivered, curling up tighter. She was reminded of several nights when she had woken up from a nightmare; always the same one- that she had been forced back Up Above and not only could she not get back Below, but she didn't even remember what she was looking for. Dafydd, never a heavy sleeper, had always woken up when she shot straight up, and he had never failed to sit beside her, to calm her and to watch over her as she fell back asleep. Sometimes he had told her stories of the Outlands, or fairy tales from his childhood; sometimes he would have her tell him of her childhood. But he had never failed to ease her panic and send her back to sleep. She wished he was here now.

Well, part of her did; the part that was afraid and wanted the comfort of his quiet presence and watchful sapphire eyes. The other part of her didn't want him anywhere near, because when he did come near he would have to fight a battle against himself- the part of him that was kin to the Nazari, and the part that bound him to her.

Regina forced herself to draw a slow, deep breath. She couldn't give in to panic and fear, not here. Closing her eyes, she drummed up the memory of dancing with Dafydd yesterday, of how the entire world had gone still as if Time had stopped himself for them. They had seemed like the only two alive in the world, and the Music of the Hightopps had wrapped around them like a caress. And by the Fates, she had felt so safe in his arms, so precious; as if she had never been truly alive until that moment. Wrapping her arms around herself, Regina had begun to hum the Music softly, imagining that she were home where she belonged, dancing on the Hill with him.

In this way she passed the few hours that remained until dawn. As the sun's first rays illuminated the tent, Niall walked in with Taran.

"Come now, Princess. It's time to leave," Niall said gently, as if she were to be embarking on a pleasure cruise.

Regina forced herself to stand, to appear calm and show no panic. She sized Taran up quickly; he wasn't anywhere near as bulky as Dafydd, which was a good sign. While she had no doubt that he was an effective fighter, she judged from his gait that he didn't usually fight on foot; he was a cavalryman. Well, that could work to her advantage… As would the dagger in his belt. No, she would not go down without a fight.

"Time for your breakfast, Princess," Taran said.

He grabbed her chin, forcing a vial of pishalver down her throat. Regina choked and coughed, but the pishalver did its job, and she scrabbled in vain to hold onto a scrap of clothing as she sank down towards the floor. Oh God, how was she going to fight when she was too small to draw Taran's dagger? What would happen to her now?


	6. Blood Runs Cold

**Author's Note**: This chapter was much easier to edit and rewrite than the last one, thank the Fates. I always liked this chapter, but it really benefitted from being edited, both in terms of length and of content. From 9 pages to 22; from being an okay chapter to being [in my opinion] perfectly wonderful in its evilness.

See the end of the chapter for the rest of my disclaimers and notes.

**Original Character Face Claim**: Gregan Nazar is portrayed by a young Jake Lloyd. Gwynyth Nazar is portrayed by the heavenly Helen Mirren.

**Disclaimer**: See the end of this chapter for my disclaimer.

**Special Thanks**: A million thanks to my wonderful beta, Thirteen Thorns. She's been incredibly helpful in helping me keep Ioan and Lily on track, and in reassuring me that Dafydd is staying in character.

* * *

><p>It took hours to traverse the pass through the mountains. It shouldn't have taken them as long as it did; the mountain range that separated Witzend from the Outlands ran the length of the border, but it wasn't particularly wide. A few hours' hike should have done it. The pass was an easy one, and a direct route, to boot. They had begun climbing up into the pass at midmorning, and yet by the time they had made it far enough to see the Outlands spread before them, the sun had set and bathed the mountains in a gloomy twilight. It had now been a full twenty-four hours since Regina was stolen, and they were no closer to rescuing her than they had been yesterday.<p>

Time was stretching himself; Tarrant could feel it. And he very much feared that Night would collude with Time and stretch herself out for far longer than she should have lasted. Sometimes it was kind of her to do so; for weddings in particular Night was usually very generous. But tonight, Tarrant couldn't feel that Night's efforts were kindly meant. Perhaps she meant to steal from Time, to get them closer to Regina before Daylight stole her away again. But Tarrant wished with all his being that Time would just hurry along. He wanted to find his daughter as quickly as possible and get home, not have to sit and wait through an unending Night.

It didn't help that the curse King Aleric had laid against the Outlands still held as strong as ever. Magic was heavy on the air, pressing down upon the rescue party, twining up their legs and trying to mire them to the spot. It was as though they were struggling through molasses; every step took a monumental effort from the body and a great deal more from the mind. Tarrant couldn't help but begrudgingly admire the quality of the spellcraft that must have gone into crafting such a strong bane; it made the Fearail's escape into Underland even more impressive. They must want to return home very badly…

That thought made him frown. It was very uncomfortable that they wanted to return to their home, when said homeland belonged to him. _He_ was the Laird of Iplam, not any of the Nazari. And yet, there were a great deal many more of them than there were of him; if they wanted to push him off his land and reclaim it, how could he stop them? He didn't even have the power to restart the Music, thanks to his stubborn wife. If he couldn't claim the Hill through the ancient magic of the Hightopps, how could he hope to keep the land safe from the Nazari? They would be coming to Underland soon, assuming that Regina kept her promise to Dafydd and offered them sanctuary in Crims [and personally, Tarrant would completely understand if she no longer wished to bring them to her queendom]. Would they rebel against her and attempt to invade Iplam? And if so, how could he stop them?

Dafydd halted them as twilight faded into true night. They huddled together, peering into the gathering darkness. Alice could dimly see the path dipping down from the mountains and into the foothills. And in the very near distance, the twinkling of campfires, the outlines of tents clustered close together.

"Regina," Alice breathed, stepping forward.  
>Dafydd caught her arm, halting her. "It's a mirage," he said shortly. "We don't know if they're that close. Or if they're the Nazari."<br>"We can ascertain that when we get closer!" Alice protested.  
>"I'm not going down there until I know exactly what's waiting for us," Dafydd countered. "We'll halt here, sleep for a few hours, eat what we can. When the sun rises the mirage will dissipate and we'll see how close they really are."<br>"In a few hours, Regina could be dead," Alice argued.  
>"Yes, and we could be wandering aimlessly through the Outlands in search of a mirage," Dafydd snapped back.<p>

Alice wanted to continue arguing, but Dafydd had already turned his back on her, dismissing her. She seethed silently, glaring as she watched the young man confer with Tarrant. Her glare only got worse when Tarrant nodded in agreement, and both men began removing their horses' saddles and preparing to bed down for the night. They didn't dare start a fire for fear of being spotted, so they huddled into their animals, wrapping up in cloaks as they wearily closed their eyes. Apparently, they saw no need for leaving anyone on guard…

Alice was glad of it. Dafydd might be willing to risk Regina being killed in order to get a few hours' worth of sleep, but she was not. If the men wanted to halt, they were more than welcome to; she would go on alone.

She went along with their scheme, biding her time. She removed Lewis' saddle and huddled into him, grateful for the ridiculous amount of heat he emitted. She stroked his shaggy coat and rested her head on his side, shifting in discomfort as her Aged joints ached in protest at the abuse they'd been put through today. She waited until she heard the men's breathing deepen, then stood quietly, coaxing Lewis up.

"Come, my old friend," she whispered. "We've an adventure to go on."

Working as quickly and quietly as she could, she re-buckled Lewis' saddle onto his hulking shoulders, securing her pack behind the saddle before swinging herself up onto the Bandersnatch's back. Turning her back on the men, she silently nudged Lewis to continue down the path.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She froze when she heard Tarrant's light, lisping voice behind her. She turned in the saddle to see him, not asleep as she'd thought, but wide awake, his green eyes shadowed in darkness as he sat up. Lewis groaned, whimpering and scuffling his large paws in guilt before sitting down heavily. Yelping softly in surprise, Alice scrambled out of the saddle, frowning at Lewis' behavior before facing Tarrant again.

"I'm going after our daughter," she replied.  
>Tarrant scoffed. "You're not," he said, standing. "You're going after your own glory."<br>She gasped at the insult. "How dare you," she breathed. "You think my glory is more important to me than my own child?"  
>"If you truly cared about your child, you would have come to the Brae with us," Tarrant snapped. "You're behavin' as if ye think yoo're th' Champion ay Underlain still, an' 'at thes is yer quest," he said, his burr growing steadily thicker as the shadows of the night made him look like a stone statue, like a stranger. "It's nae. Yoo're nae th' Champion anymair, Alice."<p>

It was his quiet rage that unnerved her, she thought absently. When Tarrant was off-the-wall enthusiastic or ranting and raving, she knew exactly how to deal with him. But this quiet, seething anger was a new breed of Madness, something she felt very unequipped to deal with. It certainly didn't help that Tarrant was now openly insulting her, doubting her. He had never doubted her before; he had believed in her, even when she couldn't believe in herself. He had always believed in Alice the Champion; did his disbelief now mean that she truly wasn't the Champion anymore?

"I am the Champion," she said stubbornly, clinging to that belief. "Once one is named a Champion, one is a Champion for life. And as Champion, it is my duty and my right to save Regina-"  
>"Yoo're nae," Tarrant interrupted, his voice hard. "Yoo're barely e'en a queen anymair. Yoo're an auld, broken hen who's chasin' memories. Dafydd is Regina's Champion. Nae ye. He's th' one wi' th' reit tae retrieve 'er. If ye tak' 'at frae heem, ye demean his vows tae 'er."<br>Alice scoffed. "They have no bond. He can't make his Vow until after she's been coronated."  
>"Dornt be glaikit," Tarrant snapped. "He doesnae need th' formality. He's gart th' vows tae 'er every day, an' hud ye bin payin' attention tae them fur th' lest sixmonth ye woods see 'at."<p>

Alice glared at him, bristling at those horrible, hateful, all-too-true words. She hadn't paid much attention to Regina's young Outlandish captain. For six months he had shadowed her daughter's steps, guarding over her day and night, even sleeping in her child's chambers, and yet Alice hadn't thought of him any more than she thought of her shadow. She appreciated him protecting her daughter, of course, but in the end she disregarded him, because that was what he was there for, wasn't it?

She had never stopped to consider that the Champion's Vow might have already been made, in deed and intention if not in words. It was a serious thing, making that Vow; it forged a bond between Champion and Queen that could never be dissolved. It was almost as serious a Vow as a marriage. She hadn't thought that Dafydd and Regina could possibly already be that bound together. Dafydd guarded Regina, sure, but to think that they depended on each other that much? Regina was only a child! Far too young to depend on someone so completely… particularly when said someone was a young man.

Tarrant, apparently reading Alice's thoughts on her face, drove home his point ruthlessly. "He is 'er Champion. Nae ye. She depends oan heem. Nae ye, nae me. _Heem_. If ye demean his reit tae sae 'er, ye demean their bond an' debase aw their promises tae each other. Comin' alang oan thes mission disnae make ye Regina's Champion onie mair than skitin' water makes ye a teapot."  
>Alice glared. "I cannot just sit and do nothing while my daughter is in danger!"<br>"Wa nae?" Tarrant asked cruelly. "Yoo've dain it afair."

She gaped at him, the breath knocked out of her. Oh, that had been a cruel, low blow. Of all the things Alice regretted in her life, surely Tarrant had to know that letting Underland take their child from them was the thing she regretted most? That one action had ripped their family apart, and they still hadn't recovered. Regina still resented Alice for that particular failure, and apparently Tarrant did as well. Was she never to be forgiven?

"You half-mad, spineless coward!" Alice lashed out, seething. "If I am no longer a Champion, then neither are you! You dare to tell me I care nothing for the safety of my child, but I don't see you any better off! If I have deluded myself as you seem to believe, then what of you? You are nothing like the Hightopp I married. You cling to your tea parties and your memories of better days, but who created those better days? The Leader of the Resistance. The man I named my Champion. Not you."

The words hung heavy in the air, tangling with the tension between them, stifling speech and choking breath. They stared at each other, each stricken to the core, but what had been said could not be unsaid nor unfelt. There was nothing to do but accept the breach and follow the argument to its inevitable conclusion. And for the first time in a very long time, Alice felt panicked and desperate, hopelessly clinging to the last threads of a bridge that was about to be blown apart.

"Perhaps we neither of us know the other anymore," Tarrant said, his voice quiet but horribly final.

Alice stayed silent, watching the last fibers of the bridge slip between her fingers and disintegrate into nothing.

"Do as you wish then, Champion," he continued, sounding utterly defeated. "Absolem knows you always did as you pleased, no matter what the cost to anyone else."

He swept her a grand, mocking bow, and for the first time since Alice had known him, he turned his back on her. He moved stiffly back to his blanket and lay down, resolutely turned away from her.

For a long time, Alice remained where she stood, staring in mute horror at Tarrant's back. What had she done? How could she have said those hateful things, and to Tarrant of all people? Even if they were true… She was still angry, frighteningly so, but she had never meant… why had she…? They had been wed for twenty-six years, as nearly as she could figure. For twenty-six years they had been of one mind, had presented a united front to Underland. He had been there for her every step of the way, always believing in her even when she had given up on herself. And yet, now… now they were estranged, paths diverting. How had they come to this?

Alice's eyes filled with tears that she stubbornly blinked back. She would not cry about this mess that she had made with her own hands. She would not mourn the relationships she had stifled and allowed to die. She had been journeying to this point for a long time; all that was left to do was follow her path to its inevitable conclusion.

She turned back to Lewis, who watched her with wide, sympathetic eyes, and sighed heavily. "Come on then, boy," she whispered.

Lewis groaned softly, snuffling as he lowered himself so she could mount him. She forced her aching joints to cooperate, swinging herself up onto the saddle, and gathered Lewis' reins, gently nudging him to follow the path down into the Outlands without a single backwards glance.

She was on her own now.

* * *

><p>"I know you're still awake."<p>

The words were softly spoken, but in the utter silence of the makeshift camp they were as loud as a scream. Dafydd didn't move, barely even stirred at Tarrant's declaration. But he did open his eyes, staring blankly at the cliff face before him.

"Aye," he acknowledged.

Yes, he was still awake. To his credit, he had _tried_ to sleep. He had had every intention of bedding down, trying to catch a few hours' rest before having to face his clan and the Outlands again. He'd not slept a wink last night; he'd been too consumed with scouring the woods around the Brae, trying to find any hint of Regina's kidnappers and where she might have been taken. After they'd come to the conclusion that the Nazari were involved, he had spent the rest of the night pacing the top of the Hill, trying to come up with a plan to rescue Regina without risking an all-out war.

By all rights, he should have been exhausted. He _was_ exhausted, filled to the brim with worry and even fear. But he couldn't sleep. It had taken him only minutes to realize what was wrong; he couldn't hear Regina's breathing. And while he'd silently groaned to himself at the realization, he was helpless in the face of that truth. For the last six months, her soft breathing had been the lullaby that had sent him to sleep, as well as the alarm that woke him the instant she opened her eyes- or fell into a nightmare, but that was a different kettle of onions. He hadn't even realized how dependent upon the sound of her breath he had become, until it was absent.

Fates, Ioan was right; she held him so very much in thrall.

"We can't worry about Alice now," Tarrant said softly, almost to himself. "Regina must be our focus."

Absently, Dafydd fingered the strip of tartan he'd tied around his left wrist. It was a strip from Regina's dress; the colors and the scent of the fabric confirmed it. Threaded onto the scrap of fabric had been a small brass button, plain but for the ribbed edges; Taran's clan marker. He'd found the token lying on the forest floor, not far from the crest of Hightopp Hill. After showing it to the rest of the Fearail, he'd removed Taran's marker from the scrap and tied it around his wrist, a seal to a silent promise. He would find her and bring her home safely, so Tarrant could sew her colors back on. He wouldn't let her slip through his fingers again.

"Aye, m'laird," he quietly agreed.

Personally, Dafydd had no problems focusing his attention on retrieving Regina. He held his peace out of respect to Tarrant and Regina, but Dafydd wasn't particularly fond of Alice. Not when the Blue Queen had hurt Regina as much and as often as she had, by her isolation and her distance.

He couldn't say he was especially surprised by the argument he'd overheard [as if he could help overhearing that ruckus]. That fight had been brewing between the Blue Royals for as long as he'd known them; old tensions and resentments had been bubbling beneath the surface of the Clava-Hightopp family unit since the moment of their reconciliation. He wondered, though, if they would ever be able to form themselves into a true family, the way Regina wanted them to be. How many times had he watched Regina's face crumple as she watched her estranged parents, seen her disappointment as she was reminded afresh that life was not as idyllic as she'd dreamed it would be when she found her parents again? What if her family was too broken to be repaired?

Well, at least they could bemoan their broken families together, he thought darkly.

As much as he tried to ignore it, his entire being was aware of the landscape below him. The Outlands recognized him, and she was calling to him, trying to draw him back. And despite himself, he wanted to return. The Outlands were, after all, the only home he'd ever known, and his entire family was still there. He had missed them in the last six months, and despite Regina's kidnapping, he wanted to see them again.

And yet, he was afraid of going back. What would happen when he returned home, when he was surrounded by his family again? How could he face his mathair, his brother and sister-in-law, his nephew and cousins and lifelong friends, when he'd come to believe that they were all wrong? How could he walk amongst them when he was willing to go to war against them, to keep them from overrunning Regina's homeland- or Fates forbid, harming Regina herself?

He wished he could hate Regina for changing him so. For all his life he'd been waiting for the chance that stood before the Nazari now. Now was the perfect time to strike. Tearmunn was literally within his grasp; with one word he could give his clan their homeland back, and he would be their hero. He was so close; they were so close. Ever since he was old enough to understand their exile, all he had wanted was to help his people return home. They had that chance now. And yet, after only six months, he was willing to deny his family that very chance, to keep them from the land that they still belonged to.

And what had caused this complete reversal? One girl. One tiny wisp of an infuriatingly fascinating girl who'd caught him in the trap of her stupidly huge eyes and who refused to let him go or think clearly. She had turned him completely inside out and effortlessly remade him into a completely new man… and he was quite sure she had no idea she'd done it. She was cruelty itself for doing this to him, for alienating him from his family and everything he'd ever wanted…

But how could he hate her? She was his queen; she had given him a home, a purpose, a whole new life. She could have ordered him killed on that battlefield, but she had shown him mercy, offered him a new life. How could he turn his back on her and destroy everything she hoped to build?

No, there was nothing for it. He had no choice but to descend into the desolate plains of his birth, and he would have to rescue her from his family's clutches. He had made his choice, and even though it would tear him into pieces, he couldn't abandon her. Not now.

"We'll get her back," Dafydd said quietly. "I swear it."  
>"I know we will," Tarrant said, sounding tired and subdued. "It's what comes after that concerns me."<p>

* * *

><p>They passed the rest of the night in silence. Dafydd doubted that either of them had slept, but there was nothing for it. Both of them were single-mindedly determined to find and save Regina; that would have to be the fuel that drove them onwards, in lieu of rest. Indeed, as soon as the red Outlandish sun began to brighten the sky to its daytime shade of blood red, both Tarrant and Dafydd sat up, quietly packing their cloaks into their knapsacks and rousing their Horses. Without needing to communicate, they silently agreed to forego a proper breakfast in the interests of getting to the Nazari as quickly as possible. Tarrant tossed Dafydd a piece of hardtack as they took off down the footpath, leading the Horses.<p>

Once they got onto the plain, there was nowhere to hide; no boulders or trees to block them from sight, no shadows to slip through. They were completely visible, sitting ducks. So Dafydd moved quickly, seeing no point in tarrying when they were so unprotected. There was a stand of petrified trees a few miles away, he remembered; they could rest there and hopefully spy upon the camp Alice had seen in last night's mirage. Despite what he'd said to Alice last night, Dafydd was sure that the rapidly approaching cluster of tents was his clan. He hoped that he could scout the site out, see if he could find out where Regina was being held- using Tarrant as bait, if he had to.

Unfortunately, the mirage Alice had seen last night had been more accurate than Dafydd would have wished. There was nowhere to hide between their position and the camp; they were easily visible, and sure to be spotted. Sure enough, he caught a flash of light against a drawn blade, a stir of movement. Someone was preparing for their approach. Frowning, he cursed under his breath; there went Plan A.

"Now what?" Tarrant asked.  
>"Deception," Dafydd answered, coming up with a plan quickly and digging a rope out of his rucksack. "I can get us into camp if I act like I've brought you here as a prisoner. I'll find out what they've done with Regina, and if I learn she's been taken to the gorges I'll volunteer to take you to join her."<br>Tarrant nodded in acceptance. "Do what you have to do, lad," he acquiesced.

He held up his wrists docilely. Dafydd tied him up quickly, trying to keep the ropes loose enough so Tarrant's wrists wouldn't be chafed, though tight enough that his clansmen wouldn't suspect anything. That done, he began walking, falling into his role as they approached his kinsmen.

To his surprise, one of the party of three that came out to intercept them was a young lad of twelve. He was growing tall and gangly, not yet grown into his hands and feet. His blond hair flopped in his green eyes, his youthful cheeks just beginning to sport the barest trace of downy fuzz.

"Gregan!" Dafydd exclaimed, amazed at the changes six months had wrought in his nephew.  
>"Uncle Dafydd!" Gregan greeted him, grinning. "You're home!"<br>"Look at how much you've grown!" Dafydd said, smiling despite himself. "Have you undergone your Manhood Rites yet?"  
>"No," Gregan said, his grin turning to a sullen frown before perking up again. "But Da said he'll consider it, after my time's up with the border guards."<br>"I'll see if I can't change your da's mind," Dafydd said, before clasping forearms with the other two men in the welcoming party.  
>"Welcome home, Dafydd," the elder, a gruff man named Mostyn, said. "We'd feared you lost."<br>"Not lost, just delayed," Dafydd replied. "I wanted to secure Tearmunn before I came back for you all."  
>"I take it that you've got Her, then?" the other man, Siorus, asked.<br>Dafydd nodded, fighting to keep calm. "I've got my best men on the Brae now. This is the Hightopp, by the way," he said, yanking on the rope until Tarrant stumbled forward.  
>"Him?" Siorus scoffed, glancing over Tarrant dismissively. "With all the stories we heard I expected someone more impressive."<br>Dafydd shrugged. "Very few people live up to their hype. You didn't happen to catch his wife, did you? Minx slipped away when I let her go to the Necessary."  
>"What, the half-Mad snarling witch?" Mostyn asked, spitting. "We got her. 'Bout half an hour ago. Niall said you wouldn't be far behind if <em>she<em> was out here."  
>"Where is my brother?" Dafydd asked.<br>"Dealing with the Puppet, I think," Siorus replied.  
>"Oh good," Dafydd said, trying to hide his relief. "We can get rid of her and her parents all at once, then."<p>

He forced himself to keep his face smooth, but inside he was shouting with relief. Regina was alive and safe, and she was still in the camp. That made his job a million times easier; he could take Regina and her parents out towards the Gulges and get them safely back to Witzend before anyone realized he'd spirited them out. And then he could come back and deal with his family…

Dafydd was broken out of his thoughts by Gregan. The lad sprinted ahead of the rest of them, waving his arms and yelling that Dafydd was home again. His antics did the trick; it seemed as though the entire clan rushed out to see for themselves that their military general was home again, safe and sound. Despite himself, Dafydd had to smile at the welcome; he had missed his family in the past year. There was old Eilwen, who rightfully boasted that she was the best cook in the Outlands; and there was Tomos, who had been a member of the Hassasseen until he lost his leg in battle. There were aunts and uncles and friends and enemies, the people Dafydd had grown up with… and the people he now had to count as his enemies.

"Dafydd Nazar!"

Dafydd winced at the annoyed, strident woman's voice, even as those around him snickered beneath their breaths. The intelligent ones backed away as she approached, lest she catch them in her fury, as well. Despite his trepidation and the sudden sensation of feeling like he'd been caught stealing jam tarts, he cleared his throat, determined to endure this. He was an adult, he could manage this…

"Hello, Mathair," he said mildly.  
>Gwynyth Nazar narrowed her eyes at him, hands on her hips. "Don't you <em>hello, Mathair<em> me, young man," she snapped. "Six months you've been gone without a word. Six. Months. And you didn't once think to send your maman word that you were alright?"  
>Dafydd sighed heavily. "Mathair, I couldn't very well-"<br>"Oh yes you could have, don't give me that," Gwynyth glared. "You had your brother and I thinking that you'd been captured, or worse! How dare you make me worry like that!"  
>"Ow," Dafydd flinched as Gwynyth smacked him in the chest. "I'm sorry!"<br>"As you should be," Gwynyth nodded, her glare softening to annoyance.  
>"I secured Tearmunn, doesn't that count for anything?" Dafydd exclaimed.<br>"A very little," Gwynyth acknowledged. "But if you think I'm done with you, you've got another think coming."  
>"Oh leave off him, Maman," drawled a voice behind Gwynyth. "He's home safe now, and you can spoil and coddle him all you want again."<p>

Dafydd looked over Gwynyth's shoulder, swallowing hard before stepping forward to embrace the Nazari's ceann-fine.

"Hello, Niall," he greeted him.  
>"Welcome home, little brother," Niall grinned, clapping Dafydd on the back.<p>

Niall was several years older than Dafydd, and had become a surrogate father figure after the boys' da had been killed. Andras had been the brother Dafydd had played and wrestled and argued with; Niall had been the brother he had killed himself to impress. And now, the sight of his brother made Dafydd sick. This was the man who had ordered Regina kidnapped, the man who would likely order her death if Dafydd didn't act quickly enough. This was the man who was threatening everything his queen was fighting for, and the man that Dafydd was going to have to outwit to secure her freedom.

"I see you've brought a guest!" Niall commented as they separated.  
>"Yes," Dafydd said, mastering himself. "Tarrant Hightopp, King of Witzend. I meant to bring you the Queen as well, but I hear you've already captured her."<br>"That I did," Niall nodded. "And she's given us nothing but trouble since the second we got her. Fetch the Lady Hightopp," he called.

Two of Niall's men disappeared into a nearby tent. Dafydd could tell the moment Alice saw them, because she began screaming at them, cursing them out in an inventive mix of Underlandian and what he assumed were Aboveground swears. It would have been funny, if he wasn't so irritated with her… Dafydd glanced over as the men dragged a bound-but-still-struggling Alice out of the tent. It was almost a comical sight, to see her fighting and digging her heels in, until one saw the maelstrom of emotions in the Queen's eyes. Dafydd had to wonder if Alice had not in fact gone Mad; she hardly seemed cognizant of anyone, lost as she was in her fury.

"Not that I'm not grateful to have them away from Tearmunn, but why did you bring them out here?" Niall asked, as though they were discussing the weather.  
>Dafydd shrugged. "I thought they should be reunited with their daughter."<br>"How thoughtful," Niall said. "I wish you had come sooner! The Azure Princess has already been disposed of."

Dafydd's blood ran cold. What? _Disposed of_? Oh, he didn't like the sound of that…

"What?" Tarrant breathed.

Dafydd glanced at his "captive" to see that the Hightopp's eyes were rapidly changing in a kaleidoscope of colors. He clenched his jaw, wishing that he could indulge in a display of emotion just as strong. Even Alice seemed to rouse at Niall's statement; she ceased struggling against her captors, focusing all of her formidable glare on the ceann-fine.

"What are you talking about?" she snapped.  
>"Yes, I'm afraid my captain Taran took her away early this morning. Only a short while before Alice joined us, actually," Niall said, the very pleasantness of his voice sounding utterly cruel. "If you wish to join her, though, I'm sure that can be arranged."<p>

Alice spat at Niall's feet before her furious gaze fell upon Dafydd. He was pinned beneath the weight of her rage and accusations, paralyzed in the face of his failure. No… Oh Fates, no… He couldn't be too late… He couldn't have failed her…

"I don't believe you," Alice seethed. "If you've killed my daughter, show me the proof."  
>"I would loath to show a mother the proof of her child's death," Niall said. "But very well."<p>

He motioned to one of his guard, who retreated inside Niall's tent. The silence as they waited was unbearable, choked with tension. Fear and hope waged war within Dafydd's heart, and with every tiny tick of the clock he could feel the drums of Madness beating louder and more insistently. She wasn't dead… he wouldn't believe it… She couldn't be dead, just like that… She had to be alive…

An unbearable eternity later, Niall's guard returned, a bundle of fabric in his arms. Dafydd felt the blood drain from his face when he saw it- Regina's Hightopp tartan gown, stained with blood and torn with ragged slashes.

He was dimly aware that Alice screamed, that Tarrant swayed and fell to his knees. But their grief didn't hold his attention; neither did Niall's smug, darkly amused face. Instead, all of his attention was focused on the drums inside his head as they threatened to overpower him, as all his insides crumbled into dust.

Niall watched the Blue Royals, shaking his head sympathetically. "Yes, a tragedy," he said, in a tone that made Dafydd long to whip out his claymore and take off his brother's head. "But it came of her free will. She rejected my offers of clemency, and so I had no choice. But it doesn't have to be like that for you. All I ask is that you abdicate your thrones and leave Witzend. You can return to Marmoreal, or travel Over-Sea if you like. Only leave Tearmunn to me, and your lives will be spared."  
>Alice snarled. "Never, you <em>slurking urpal slackush <em>_**scrum**_!"  
>"Well, that's not very polite," Niall said, sounding amused, in a tone as if chastising a naughty toddler. "What of you?" he asked, turning towards Tarrant, his pleasant demeanor cracking in dislike.<p>

Dafydd saw it before anyone else; perhaps even before Alice. He saw how the Hightopp's eyes were a dangerous, neon yellowish-green, saw how Tarrant looked not angry, but rather steely calm, his face shadowed in grays which only served to highlight the dangerous look in his eyes. This was Madness, pure and simple; Tarrant Hightopp was no more.

The Nazari had grown up with cautionary tales of what happened to their ancestors when they lost control of their Madness. How one would be utterly consumed, lost in the darkness of the twists and turns of one's mind and unable to resurface into consciousness. How the Madness would reign supreme, revealing the worst and darkest aspects of the Mad one's character. Dafydd had grown up hearing how important it was to control one's Madness, else one would become lost to it, but never before had he seen what happened when a man gave in to his Madness. Not until now.

Tarrant didn't say anything; he merely looked up at Niall. But that look was filled with such naked loathing, such primal, animalistic anger… Under the force of such a gaze, even Niall took a step back.

"Restrain him," Niall ordered.

Dafydd realized Niall's mistake the instant he spoke. The moment the guards took a step forward, Tarrant leapt into action, breaking the rope binding his wrists as easily as if it were the thinnest of threads. Before the first guard could move, Tarrant grabbed his head, twisting viciously and releasing the body just as fast. He ducked a blow from another guard, delivering a vicious punch of his own to the man's stomach. When he was grabbed from behind, Tarrant used his captor as leverage, springing up to leap up and kick the other man in the face, sending him falling back, unconscious, before flipping his captor over his shoulder.

Dafydd didn't have time to think; he merely reacted. He had to neutralize this situation as quickly as possible, before Tarrant got himself killed. Rushing forward, he grabbed Tarrant's arm as the older man swung around, using the momentum to spin Tarrant into his grasp. Before Tarrant could react, Dafydd delivered a brutal punch to his temple, catching the Hatter as he slumped, unconscious.

"Tarrant!" Alice shrieked, struggling for all she was worth against the grip of two men. "You bastard!" she spat at Dafydd, utter loathing in her voice. "Regina _trusted_ you!"  
>"Take them away," Niall snapped, regaining control over the situation. "Bind them in a tent together, and when the Hatter wakes up send them to join Regina. Tonight, we feast to welcome home my brother and rejoice in our victory. Tomorrow, we march on Tearmunn."<p>

The Nazari cheered as the remaining guards hauled the Blue Royals away. Dafydd tried to muster himself together, to appear pleased and proud to stand beside his brother once more, but all he could feel was disgust, and rage. It was all he could do to remain silent, to appear impassive, when all he wanted to do was make his brother feel even a sliver of the agony he was in right now.

Niall, seemingly impervious to his brother's mood, clapped a hand on Dafydd's shoulder. "Come," he said. "We have much to discuss."  
>It took all of Dafydd's skill in deception not to flinch away from his brother's touch. "Give me some time," he croaked. "I need to bathe. Get the Hightopp filth off my skin," he improvised wildly, hardly caring what he said as long as it meant Niall would leave him alone.<p>

Barely waiting for Niall's nod, Dafydd turned, walking away as quickly as he possibly could in the direction of the sluggish, sulfuric-smelling river. But when he reached the river he didn't stop; he forded the shallow waters as quickly as possible, continuing to walk until the noises of the campsite melted away into silence. As soon as he felt like he'd put enough distance between himself and his family, he drew to a halt, staring blankly out at the windswept, barren plains as he lost his grip on reality. Digging his fingers into his scalp, he fell to his knees, the drumming overwhelming his senses as he lost himself to his grief.

Dead. Regina was dead. His dearbadan-de, the pretty little butterfly he'd been safeguarding and watching so closely… now she was lying out under the harsh Outlandish sun somewhere, her red half-Uplander blood soaking into the broken ground, her beautiful green eyes staring sightlessly up at the ugly red sky.

He swore he felt the cracking as his heart broke, as it screamed and bled its agony. How had it taken her Death to make him realize that she was his Life? She had undone him, completely remade him, and he was utterly dependent upon her. And he had failed her. His entire future had been tied into her, and now… now it was all gone.

How long had he felt like this for her, he dully wondered. How long had she held his heart in her hands, without his noticing it? How long ago had he fallen for her? And how could he not have realized what these feelings meant earlier? He had been in love before… or at least, he'd thought it had been love. How could he not have recognized these emotions for what they were? The helpless fascination, the wonder, the fierce need to protect her, the stronger need to make her smile and to keep her happy… hadn't he felt all those things for Afanen, in some way? How could he not have recognized them when they applied to Regina?

Oh Fates, it hurt. It hurt. He'd finally realized that he was in love, truly in love for perhaps the first time in his life. And she had been taken from him. The woman he loved, murdered by his own brother. He had promised to protect her, sworn to keep her safe. He had loved her, and he had failed her. And now, Regina was dead, and Dafydd was among her murderers, unable to take revenge for her.

The drumming was getting louder and ever more insistent, calling to him, demanding vengeance and justice and revenge and blood and destruction and satisfaction. Usually he was able to lock the drums away deep in the darkest recesses of his mind. But he was so weak, so utterly destroyed… maybe listening to the drumming for once would provide some respite and relief from this horrifying pain. Maybe it would be a blessing to give in, for once.

He hunched over, his forehead touching the ground, and he howled Regina's name in loss as he lost himself to the drumming.

* * *

><p>"I assume you have some sort of plan."<p>

Ioan rolled his eyes and huffed, silently motioning for Lily to shut up. He needed silence in order to listen for Birds… and he didn't necessarily want to tell her that his "plan," as it was, was only half-formed and based on too many variables to be considered any kind of stable.

He snapped his gaze up as he heard a rustling in the trees above him. He squinted, but given that the sun had long since gone down that didn't really improve his vision any. Motioning to Lily for silence and to stay in place, he hauled himself up into the branches, climbing as quickly and as silently as he could. Several minutes, a panicked _squawk_, and an inventive curse later, Ioan triumphantly leapt to the ground, gripping an angry Crow upside down by its legs.

"Ta da!" he exclaimed, presenting the animal for Lily's inspection.  
>Far from looking impressed though, she stared up at him, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "A Bird. That's your brilliant plan, <em>birds<em>?"  
>Ioan huffed again. "You could be impressed, you know. Crows are the devil to catch. Especially in this light."<br>"I don't understand how you think that a Crow is going to help us find Gigi," Lily frowned.  
>"He's going to get us over the mountains," Ioan said, speaking slowly as if to a child.<br>Lily's frown deepened. "Isn't that what the Horse and the Bear are for?"  
>Ioan shook his head. "Thanks to the enchantment, it'd take forever for them to break through."<br>"Enchantment? What enchantment?" Lily asked.  
>Ioan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You don't know this? Your ancestor was the one to do it."<br>"I might have heard it at one point, but I never liked history lessons," Lily admitted.  
>"Right," Ioan muttered. "Anyways. Yes. Enchantment. When your ancestor banished my clan, he set a curse on the mountains to keep us from ever getting back."<br>"He doesn't appear to have done a very good job," Lily said sardonically.  
>"Oh, he did a very good job," Ioan grumbled. "Which is why we need the bird. He can fly over the mountains, right over the curse. It'll save us hours of time."<br>"Alright," Lily shrugged in acceptance. "So you have pishalver, then?"  
>"I wouldn't go to all the trouble of catching the bird if I didn't, now would I?" Ioan asked, raising an eyebrow.<br>"I have no idea what you might do," Lily replied. "For all I know, it could be some arcane mating ritual."  
>"…Right," Ioan drawled, shaking his head before tossing Lily a glass vial he'd dug out of his rucksack. "Drink up, Princess."<br>"I have a name, you know," Lily frowned as she caught the bottle.  
>"Yep, I know," Ioan nodded, saluting her with a mock toast before downing his dose.<p>

Lily considered arguing, but she was quick to realize that it would only waste time. Shrugging, she unstoppered the vial in her hand and took a sip of the vial-tasting pishalver, coughing as she began to shrink down. She clutched at her clothing, yelping; she hadn't thought about this part.

Hearing her startled gasp, Ioan glanced over, worried that she might have stubbed her toe or something. As he walked over though, he saw the source of Lily's distress.

"Troubles?" he grinned.  
>"I'm fine," she huffed, yanking on the too-large clothing.<br>"You could always leave the clothes behind," he suggested in a parody of innocence.  
>Lily glared at him. "I don't think so."<br>Ioan sighed, pouting. "I tried."

Shrugging, he hefted up the vial, allowing the last few drops to splatter on Lily's clothing. She blinked in surprise as the fabric began to shrink, until it fit her properly again.

"I didn't know pishalver could do that," she commented.  
>"The stuff you Underlandians brew can't," Ioan said smugly. "This is our recipe. Ingenious, isn't it?"<br>Lily shrugged, determined not to let Ioan's head swell any further. "It'll serve. So what is your plan, oh fearless leader?"

Ioan sighed; he should've known Lily wouldn't let up. Still, he wasn't about to let Lily know how patchy his plan actually was. With a warning glance to the Crow, he boosted Lily up onto the Bird's back, showing her how to hold on to the Animal without ruffling its feathers. Once he was sure she wouldn't fall off, he hopped on behind her and took off into the air. He waited until they were well up into the air before finally answering her.

"I'm using you as a distraction," he said, leaning in to speak into her ear. "I'll parade in with you all trussed up like a hedgehog and hand you over to Niall. He'll stash you wherever he's keeping Regina. I'll volunteer to guard you, I'll slip you a dagger, you can free yourself and Gigi, drink some pishalver, and sneak out the back. I'll hide you both in my pocket while I go deal with Dafydd, and then we'll all get out of this mess as fast as we can."  
>Lily tilted her head, considering. "It's a good plan," she finally said, nodding. "It leaves a lot to chance, but I think we can make it work."<br>"I think you're stubborn enough to force it to work," Ioan shot back, grinning.  
>Lily smiled complacently. "So I've been told."<p>

Ioan liked traveling by Bird; as he'd told Lily, it was such a time saver. By the time they had flown over the mountains, it was late at night; probably about midnight, if he was reading the moon right. But he didn't see any sign of Dafydd or the Hightopps, which meant that they were either already in the Outlands, or still struggling through the mountain pass. Either way, Ioan would feel better if he was in the Nazari camp already.

Very soon, they were up and over the mountains, and in the Outlands. Ioan sighed as he gazed upon the land of his birth. Funny, how barren and unfriendly it seemed, now that he'd gotten used to the lush greens of Underland. The land looked harsher and more dangerous than Ioan remembered, and despite the fact that it was home he found himself unwilling to venture down onto the ground.

Still, the Crow was rapidly descending towards the earth. And if they didn't go into the Outlands, Ioan didn't have a hope in all the worlds of bringing Dafydd under control. So however unpleasant or uncomfortable this was going to be, it had to be done.

"This could be uncomfortable for you," Ioan warned Lily as he handed her a square of upelkuchen. "You'll probably be tied up and under guard, and they won't be nice."  
>"I don't care," Lily said staunchly, munching on the cake. "If it helps Gigi, then it's fine."<p>

Ioan nodded, swallowing his own upelkuchen. After they and their clothing had both grown back to their right-proper-sizes, Ioan bound Lily's wrists with rope and started walking, heading for the glow of campfires in the distance. He knew they would be spotted fairly quickly; even though the Hassasseen had been the elite fighting force, Niall had retained his own personal guard, and they were likely prowling the borders of the Nazari's campsite.

"How doth the shining crocodile improve his shining tail?"

Right on time.

Ioan grinned faintly as he called back the proper response. "He pours water of the Nile on every shining scale!"  
>"Let him through! I recognize that voice, it's Ioan!" one of the guards called. "Fetch Lord Niall!"<p>

Ioan grinned, accidentally yanking on Lily's lead rope in his hurry to rejoin his kin. She grumbled, yanking back to regain her footing. Ioan couldn't resist tugging the rope once again; after all, he had to get them both into character, didn't he?

"Ioan! What are you doing here?" the border guard, who Ioan recognized as Caradoc, asked as he approached.  
>"Dafydd sent me ahead," he lied easily. "We found Taran's clan marker, but the idiot only got the Princess. Dafydd's bringing along the parents. I brought Niall an extra present," he said, yanking on the rope to force Lily forward.<br>"I don't think Briallen will take kindly to giving Niall a slut to play with, Ioan. That's going a bit far, even for you," Caradoc said blankly.  
>"Excuse m- hey!" Lily yelped, glaring at Ioan as he yanked her rope again.<br>He smirked at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to Caradoc. "I think Briallen will forgive me when she finds out this is the Adamasi bitch's whelp."

He was very conscious of Lily suddenly going still, not feigning the shock in her face at his insult. But he didn't focus on her, instead watching as Caradoc processed Ioan's announcement.

"Well well. One of the Adamasi," he said, slowly circling around Lily like a vulture. "Aye, I think Briallen might just forgive you."

"Ioan, you scallywag, what are you doing here on your own?"

Ioan turned at the sound of his cousin's voice, grinning. Tossing Lily's rope to Caradoc, he walked forward, clapping Niall's forearm in greeting.

"Dafydd will be along in a few hours," Ioan said. "I got impatient, so I flew. You have the Puppet, I hear."  
>"That I do," Niall nodded. "Lounging on her pleasure couch as we speak. Who's this?"<br>"The White Princess, m'laird," Caradoc answered, yanking Lily forward and presenting her to Niall.

Niall raised his eyebrows in surprise, glancing at Ioan. In response, Ioan shrugged.

"She wanted to come after Re- the Puppet," he said, silently cursing himself for the slip of tongue.  
>"I see," Niall mused, apparently not noticing Ioan's mistake. "Well, I have no objection to her joining her cousin. I think it'd be a lovely surprise for Regina, to wake up and learn that she's taking her journey with a friend." He smiled, a cold, heartless smile, before glancing at Caradoc. "Is the prisoners' tent set up?"<br>"Yes, m'laird," Caradoc nodded. "We had it ready for the Puppet, before you decided to keep her with you-"  
>"Perfect," Niall interrupted. "Put the White Bitch there."<br>"Yes, m'laird," Caradoc said, bowing before taking Lily off.

Ioan watched them go, marking where the tent was so that he could slip Lily the tools she'd need to escape later. He snapped back to attention as Niall clapped him on the back.

"You look tired, cousin," Niall said. "I'll have a couple of my men set up a tent for you."  
>"No need, Niall," Ioan said. "I'll go sleep by the whelp's tent. I don't trust her not to try to run off."<br>"If you're sure," Niall hesitated.  
>"Of course I'm sure," Ioan grinned. "You have need of all your men."<br>"That I do," Niall nodded. "Alright. Get some rest, Ioan. You'll need it, when Dafydd comes home."  
>"That I will," Ioan said wryly.<p>

He ambled away from Niall, whistling to himself as he headed in the direction of the tent where Lily was being held. He nodded in greeting to Caradoc as he approached, clapping his clansmen on the shoulder.

"Go get yourself some rest," he said. "I volunteered to watch the little bitch."  
>"Much obliged," Caradoc nodded. "I'll come get you at dawn."<p>

Ioan nodded in agreement as Caradoc took off. Once the elder man was gone, Ioan glanced around to be sure he was unobserved before slipping into the tent.

"You alright?" he asked softly, crossing over to Lily.

She sat in the center of the tent, tied to the central upright pole. She looked up at him, annoyed.

"Oh, I'm peachy," she grumbled. "What is your clan's _problem_?"

Ioan grumbled. He probably should have expected that; he hadn't exactly given her all the required background information to help her understand why she would be so reviled among his clan. But still, she could control the attitude a little.

He plopped down beside her, digging around in his pockets for the tools she'd need to make their plan work. A dagger, easily hidden in her sleeve, and upelkuchen and pishalver. Lily nodded silently, cradling the cake and drink in her hands as Ioan slipped the dagger up her arm.

"Your ancestors banished mine," he said shortly once the tools were hidden. "We're still a little angry."  
>"I got that from the Adamasi bitch comments," Lily said scathingly.<br>Ioan shrugged, wincing faintly. "Right. Sorry about that," he apologized.  
>She sighed. "It's beyond the point. Can you get to Gigi?"<br>"No," Ioan shook his head. "I can't move her without causing suspicion. So I'll volunteer to take the both of you… wherever Niall's planning on sending you," he said hesitantly. "We're still following the same plan."

Lily nodded in understanding. Nodding once, Ioan stood.

"I'll come check on you every couple of hours," he said. "I'll be right outside the door."  
>"I'll be here," Lily replied, squirming as much as she could beneath her bonds.<p>

Nodding, Ioan headed back outside. Waiting outside the tent was a thin pallet and blanket. Sighing gratefully, Ioan lay down, closing his eyes. Neither he nor any of the Fearail had slept at all last night; he'd be grateful for a few hours' rest.

_Hold on, Gigi,_ he thought as he drifted off. _We'll get you out of here soon_.

* * *

><p>The next time Ioan opened his eyes, the sun was rising over the barren wasteland. Ioan blinked, then sat up in surprise. Fates, had he slept all night? He leapt to his feet, silently berating himself. What if Niall had already sent Regina off? What if Lily had been taken while he slept? What if his plan had completely unraveled?<p>

Cursing, he stumbled into Lily's tent, surprised to see that she was no longer alone.

"Your Majesty?" he blinked, wondering if he was really seeing the Blue Queen tied to one of the corner support poles.  
>Alice glared up at him with eyes that burned. "Curse you," she spat at him. "Curse you and all your kin, you murderous bastards. You killed my daughter. I'll see all of you destroyed!"<p>

Ioan froze, his eyes flying wide. Killed? What?

"What are you talking about?" he breathed.  
>"Gigi's dead," Lily replied, her voice thick with tears.<p>

Ioan stared at her, stumbling over to her and squatting beside her. Lily hung limply in the ropes that tied her, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Hesitantly, Ioan put a comforting hand on Lily's back, watching gravely as she looked up at him. He winced when he saw her face; Lily had been crying so hard that she'd broken the blood vessels around her eyes, and her face was even more deathly pale than usual.

"Niall had her taken away before Alice got here," she sniffed. "She's gone, Ioan. She's dead. We failed."

Ioan swallowed hard, trying to persuade his tongue to wrap itself around some comforting words, when a sudden thought made him pause.

"Fates," he whispered. "Oh, _Fates_."

Shooting straight up, Ioan hurried out of the tent. He looked around wildly, hoping against hope, but when no great hulking moron was visible, he rushed to Niall's tent.

"Niall!" he exclaimed, bursting inside.

Niall's head shot up, as did the heads of half a dozen of his best men. Ioan swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. The game wasn't over yet; he still had a deception to enact. Stay calm, he counseled himself; there was plenty of time to panic later.

"Ioan, what's wrong?" Niall frowned.  
>"Sorry," he apologized. "I overslept. The Adamasi whelp tells me you sent the Puppet away already?"<br>"At dawn," Niall nodded. "I had meant to send the White Princess with her, but the Elders reminded me that we are still outlawed in Underland. So instead of killing her, we'll use the little bitch as leverage. Her life for our return. I think the Queen will agree, don't you?"  
>"That should do it," Ioan nodded, swallowing hard. "You're planning our way back, then?"<br>"Mmm," Niall nodded, turning back to his work table. "Now that we have you and Dafydd back, that should weaken the curse's hold enough for us to get over the mountains, don't you think?"  
>"I think so," Ioan said hesitantly. "Where is Dafydd? Shouldn't he be here?"<br>"He went for a swim," Niall said, unconcerned.  
>"Ah," Ioan nodded. "I'll go get him. He should be here, he can tell you about the lay of the land and the best way to get to the Brae."<p>

Without waiting to hear what Niall had to say, Ioan turned and hurried away, walking quickly through the camp towards the river. It was fiendishly difficult to track in the Outlands; the ground was so hard that it was often difficult to find tracks. But apparently, Dafydd had been angry, because the earth had cracked wherever he'd stepped. Not a good sign… Still, it made it easy for Ioan to follow his cousin's path, away from the camp and deeper into the Outlands.

Ioan sighed in relief when he finally spotted Dafydd, but he was cautious as he approached. Underland only knew what sort of a mental state Dafydd was in right now… if his cousin was battling the Madness he really didn't want to end up getting punched in the face.

"Dafydd?" he asked cautiously, slowly approaching.

Dafydd didn't turn; he remained standing, his back turned to Ioan, staring out over the horizon. Ioan glanced at Dafydd's hands to be sure he wasn't armed [not that Dafydd had any need of weapons], sighing in relief to find them empty. Wait; not empty. Dafydd was holding something; a scrap of dark-colored fabric. Ioan winced when he recognized it; it was the scrap of Regina's dress they'd found back in Tearmunn.

"She's dead," Dafydd said.

His voice was quiet and flat, near emotionless. He might as well have been discussing the weather. But the tone in his voice sent alarm bells ringing through Ioan's head. Oh Fates, he was too late. He knew that tone, and was all too aware of what it signified. He'd come too late; Dafydd wasn't fighting the Madness, he'd already succumbed.

"I heard," Ioan said. "I'm so sorry, Dafydd."  
>"Sorry," Dafydd repeated, his lips twisting in a faint sneer. "<em>Sorry<em> doesn't bring her back. She's gone. I let her go."

Ioan nodded, thinking. He was hyper-aware that the wrong word from him could spell his death; if Dafydd took offense to anything, Ioan would be dead before he could even defend himself.

"What are we going to do?" he asked. "Niall's getting ready to wage war. The Deuces can't hold Tearmunn by themselves, Dafydd. And we have to get Alice and Tarrant out of here-"  
>"What does it matter?" Dafydd interrupted him, glaring at him with eyes that blazed like lightning. "What does any of it matter? She's <em>dead<em>, Ioan! Dead…"

Ioan stared at Dafydd, unnerved by the depth of grief and loss in his cousin's eyes. He'd known that Dafydd wanted Regina, of course; they'd all known it. But he hadn't realized just how deep the yearning went. He had thought it was trite, a physical attraction. He'd never stopped to think that Dafydd might have lost his heart to the young Princess. But that was apparently the case, and if so, they were in trouble. The Nazari mated for life; once their heart was given, it was given completely and forever. If Regina was dead, what was to stop Dafydd from wasting away into nothing?

"You made her a promise," Ioan said slowly. "You promised to defend her, and everything and everyone she cares about. She may be gone, but you're still bound to protect what she loves. You have to defend Tearmunn, Dafydd. For her."

He watched Dafydd closely, watched as his words slowly sunk in and took hold. The Madness was still there, still in control; it wasn't Dafydd Ioan was addressing, it was most definitely the Battlelust. But thank the Fates, Regina held just as much power over one as over the other.

"For her," Dafydd finally said, before turning and walking back to the camp.

Ioan exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping. Oh, this was bad. Regina dead, Dafydd gone Mad… What would happen if they weren't able to break Dafydd's Madness? What would happen if they couldn't bring him back to himself?

Still, that was a worry for tomorrow, Ioan told himself, jogging to catch up with Dafydd. Before they could worry about Dafydd's Madness, they had to prevent this war, had to keep Tearmunn out of Niall's clutches and get Alice, Tarrant and Lily home safely.

Ioan sighed. This was going to take a miracle…

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer, or please don't kill me<strong>: So, um… yeah. That was a bit evil. Um… oops?

First off, about Alice and Tarrant. That argument… yeah. I always intended to have them argue, but they turned it into a complete clusterfuck. I watched that unfolding in my head and my jaw just dropped. At one point I had to stop them and ask if they were really going to do this, to which they replied, at the same time, "Yep. Now step back and let us get on with it." To which Dafydd and I glanced at each other and headsmacked in unison. I do, however, have my reasons for Alice and Tarrant to be ripping each other to shreds. I mentioned in Book One that I did research about what happens to a family unit [psychologically speaking] when a child is kidnapped, and that oftentimes the parents will take their stress and fears out on each other. That idea formed the basis of Alice and Tarrant's relationship for me, so this argument is really just a continuation of that theme. I did not, however, expect them to get so incredibly vicious with each other. Just remember, I do keep promising to eventually fix everything I break. Eventually.

Which reminds me, about Regina… heh. That plot twist was her idea, not mine. I had no idea why she wanted to descend to that level of evil [and that level of complicated to worm my way out of]… and then she pointed to Dafydd. Yep, that's right. This entire plot twist happened just so Regina could torment Dafydd. That is not kind of her, and I will not object if you want to bash her over the head with a club.

Dafydd's descent into Madness is new; yet another product of that 48-hour editing binge I keep complaining about. His Madness developed into a major subplot for the latter half of this Book, and it's going to have some major- and majorly interesting- implications for the back chapters. I'm looking forward to dealing with his Madness; it's based off the idea of berserkers and battlelust, so you can imagine what a problem this could be for the delicate situation we find ourselves in.


	7. The Turning of the Tide

**Author's Apology**: Um… hi. You may not remember me; I'm Roxie, I'm the one who was writing this story about Alice and Tarrant's daughter before I up and disappeared for two months? –wince- I'm really sorry, guys. I know I've been gone forever. I could default to the standard excuse of absentee authors, that real life got in my way. And that's true. In the past couple of months I have begun and ended a relationship, work got Mad, I moved into my own apartment, I had a theatre gig and had _no _time… But it's also true to say that my muse packed up and went on vacation without informing me. For a solid month, I didn't touch any part of this series- not the editing for Book Two, no writing Book Four, nothing. Not only did I have writers' block, I just simply lost the story. I had no idea what was going on, all my characters had run away, and I was just left high and dry.

To be entirely honest, that's still somewhat true. I'm still not sure if my muse has come back from vacation yet, or if we're even speaking right now. However, I am committed to this series. I will not leave it unfinished. It may take me absolutely forever, but I am going to finish all four Books and the companion piece. I promise.

**Author's Note**: So, about this chapter. I thought it was decently good when I first wrote it. It was while I was originally writing this chapter that I changed a lot of the plot for the latter half of this book. Originally, Tarrant organized an escape from the Nazari, Niall was making stupid tactical errors that weren't in character at all, and the climactic fight I had planned absolutely didn't work with the rest of the story. I blame Dafydd for the edits to the plot. The more I worked through this book, the more I realized that Dafydd is the main character of Book Two, and the plot isn't so much about rescuing Regina as it is about Dafydd working through his emotional baggage.

So yeah, I had a decently good chapter written. Then it came time to edit it for posting… and I got stuck. I needed to add the first scene, completely change the second, and make a pretty severe change to the third. Making all those changes was really difficult for me, especially after a month-long case of writer's apathy. So what I'm saying is, I have no idea if this is a good chapter or not. I don't know if it accomplishes what I needed and wanted it to. But, here you go.

**Special Thanks**: Many thanks to my shiny beta, Thirteen Thorns. I much prefer her thoughts on why I dislike this chapter [ie, it's due to writer's paranoia caused by the long interval since the last time I wrote anything] to mine [ie, that it's simply a bad chapter].

* * *

><p>The inside of the tent was dark, illuminated only by the firelight that flickered around the edges of the tent flaps. The air was dark; warm from hours of occupation, thick with tension and despair. Though sounds of celebration could be heard outside, the interior of the tent was deathly, somberly quiet.<p>

Alice's eyes were closed, and had been for hours; defeat was written in every line of her form. She sagged listlessly against the ropes she'd been bound to the tent pole with, and her legs had long since gone numb from inactivity. She didn't care. What did her discomfort matter? The fact that she felt the discomfort meant that she was still alive, whereas her daughter would never feel anything again.

They had languished in the tent all day, abandoned and forgotten. For a long while they'd all- Lily, Alice and Tarrant- been together. It had been a comfort knowing the others were nearby, though Alice was barely able to see them through the gloom, let alone attempt to break out of her bonds and touch them. Tarrant had been unconscious all morning, and even in the dim light Alice had been able to watch the bump on his temple swell, the bruise travel along the entire right side of his face. If she got a chance to lay a hand on Dafydd, she would make him regret the day he ever crossed the Border Mountains and charmed his way into Regina's confidence…

He had woken up in the mid-afternoon. As soon as his eyes had opened, Tarrant had started straining against his bindings, screaming Outlandish curses at the people they could hear moving outside the tent. Almost immediately, Dafydd and Ioan had walked into the tent. Alice hadn't seen what Dafydd had done, but when he stepped away Tarrant had slumped over again, unconscious, and the two young men had carried him away. Alice had screamed after them, demanding to know where they were taking her husband, but they hadn't answered. And since then, no one had come to the tent. Alice had no idea where Tarrant was, if he was still safe or even still alive. After all, the Nazari had killed Regina; what was to stop them from murdering Tarrant, as well, before coming to finish Lily and Alice off?

Since the bastards had taken Tarrant away, Lily and Alice had been left alone. All day, she had heard the sounds of celebration mingling with the sounds of preparing for war. All day, Alice had been trying to think of a way out of this nightmare- while the entire time wondering if it was worthwhile to even attempt escape. What did it matter if she somehow magically got out of the Outlands? Her marriage was still broken, her daughter was still dead, and all her dreams were irreparably destroyed. What did escape matter? Better to die; at least then she could see her daughter again.

Fates, this hurt. Alice sighed heavily, tilting her head back to rest against the wooden post she'd been tied to. She didn't know how to deal with emotions this intense anymore. She had spent eighteen years hiding from all vestiges of emotion as the Black Queen; she wasn't sure she knew how to experience what she was feeling. She longed for the peace Mirana could give her. Upon Alice's re-emergence from the shadows of Marmoreal, Mirana had begun brewing what she called Tea; medicines that worked to heal the emotions. What Alice wouldn't give for some Peace and Calm right now…

"Alice."

She blinked, her brain belatedly registering that Lily had been speaking her name for some time now. Alice shifted wearily; she wasn't sure she cared to hear anything the over-energetic Princess might have to say.

"What is it, Lily?" she asked, her dull, uninterested voice hanging heavily in the air.  
>"Alice, we have to get out of here," Lily said, her every word sapping Alice of even more energy. "I have everything we need hidden in my sleeve, if I can just wriggle it out-"<br>"And if we were to escape? What then?" Alice countered. "What's the point?"  
>"The point is defending your queendom," Lily said blankly. "The Nazari are about to march on your home-"<br>"Let them," Alice shrugged dismissively. "I don't care anymore."  
>"But you <em>must<em> care," Lily argued. "You're the Champion!"

Alice flinched away from the word, wincing. There was no honor in that honorific, and no pleasure. That word, which once had been worn proudly, unfurled like a banner in the wind, was now a windless sail, a slur; a summation of Alice's failures as a wife, as a mother, as a queen. Yes, Alice had been the Champion, and as such she had delivered pain and disappointment and failure and abandonment. Champion, indeed.

"I was the Champion, once," she finally said.  
>"Once a Champion, always a Champion," Lily retorted, echoing Alice's own arrogant words back to her. "You cannot give up now."<br>"Lily, it's over," Alice said, finality in her tone. "There's no shame in admitting defeat."

Alice wasn't sure, but she thought the pregnant pause might have been Lily rolling her eyes.

"Someday, you really must explain how you find it so easy to lose hold of your muchness," the princess said impatiently.

Alice smiled bitterly. Aye, she had lost herself again, hadn't she? Ah well, no matter. Very soon, everything would cease to matter.

Alice barely bothered to pay attention as Lily started shuffling around. She heard the distinct sound of rope being sawed through, and then suddenly Lily was right behind her, cutting through her bonds.

"Lily-" she started.  
>"No," Lily cut her off edgily. "I'm not going to listen to this, Alice. We are getting out of here, we are freeing Tarrant, and we are going home. You owe it to Gigi's memory to get out of here alive and stabilize her queendom."<p>

Alice drew a deep, shuddering breath. Much though she didn't want to think about it, Lily was right. With Regina dead [oh, how her heart twisted at that horrible, hateful word!], there was no one to rule Crims. If she and Mirana didn't stabilize the country, Crims would once again fall apart, as it had in the years after Iracebeth's exile. Alice had failed Regina in every possible way; she could not fail at this final task.

"You're right," Alice said grudgingly. "I assume you have some sort of plan?"

Grinning, Lily tossed Alice a small vial of pishalver. Alice wrinkled her nose as she drank the nasty stuff; she had never gotten used to the taste of the drink. Within moments, she was shrinking down to the size of a mouse, watching in fascination as Lily shrank their clothing along with them with a few drops of pishalver. At Lily's silent, satisfied nod, they crept towards the tent wall, slipping beneath it and out into the dangerous open space of the Nazari camp.

Alice blinked in surprise to see her Bandersnatch tethered to a spike in the ground just outside the tent. Either Lewis had suddenly become a much more delicately treading animal, or Alice truly had been lost in her own mind, because she hadn't heard a peep from him at all. Though Lewis growled at everyone who dared approach, he seemed unharmed. Well, this would certainly help the escape attempt…

"Explain to him, Alice," Lily hissed, before darting over to the tether keeping Lewis pinned.

Alice stared up at the behemoth mountain of fur that was her Lewis. How was she supposed to catch his attention when she was this small? Frowning, she clambered onto his paw, tugging on a lock of tangled white hair. Lewis snorted in surprise, then lowered his head down between his paws. Nodding in satisfaction, Alice climbed up onto his snout.

"We need to get out of here, boy," she explained to him. "Can you help Lily break the rope?"

She watched Lewis' eyes sparkle, and she was fairly certain that beneath her, he was grinning. Smiling, Alice clambered up onto the Bandersnatch's head, holding tight as Lewis rose into the air. He leaned back as far as the rope would allow him, and then he raised his paw, unsheathing his claws and swiping through the tether with a single _snick_. Innocently, Lewis lowered his head again as a Nazar strolled by, both concealing the cut rope and allowing Lily to clamber onto his back.

As soon as the Nazar was gone, Lewis bolted, only barely keeping from howling in delight. Alice held Lewis' fur in a death grip, fear nearly getting the best of her as the Nazari shouted in alarm at seeing the Bandersnatch loose. Men instantly grabbed their weapons and gave chase; beneath her, Alice thought Lewis might be laughing. He hallooed excitedly and sped up, easily outstripping his captors and leaving the Nazari camp in the dust behind them.

"What about Tarrant?" Alice yelled to Lily.  
>"Ioan's doing that part!" Alice barely heard Lily reply. "Tell Lewis we need to get to the oasis oueast of here!"<p>

Alice relayed the information to Lewis, burrowing into his fur as he changed directions. _For you, darling_, she whispered to herself as the Bandersnatch carried them away from the sight of Regina's demise.

* * *

><p>Gregan Nazar was well versed in the art of being unseen.<p>

His da called him a natural-born spy; he'd always had the gift of being there one moment, gone the next. He found it easy to slip away from people, to slither through an entire camp of people unseen, and to hide in a corner and pick up all kinds of interesting tidbits. As a matter of fact, his da had utilized this talent of his before, sending him into the Red King's tent to work as a pageboy so that he could gather information and relay it back. Sometimes, though, Gregan would sneak about and listen to conversations simply because he was curious. That was the reason that he'd left the feast the clan had whipped together, and was instead slipping through the shadows, headed for his tent.

It wasn't difficult to find the ceann-fine's tent; it was easily the largest in the entire camp. Tonight it was even easier to find the tent, as it was ringed by armed guards. Gregan's face screwed up in displeasure; how was he supposed to spy on the Hatter if he couldn't get close?

He thought quickly, then nodded to himself, walking around to the back entrance and trying to look as innocent as a twelve-year-old boy possibly could as he approached the single guard posted at the tent flap.

"What're you doing here, Gregan?" Caradoc asked. "You should be enjoying the party."  
>"Maman sent me to fetch her shawl," he improvised quickly.<br>Caradoc nodded. "Get it then, and be quick," he said. "Stay out of the main tent, your da doesn't want you near the Hightopp."  
>"Alright," Gregan nodded easily.<p>

He grinned to himself; that had been almost too easy. He slipped into the tent, making a pretense of rummaging through a couple of boxes, before quietly sneaking closer to the flap separating his parents' room from the main chamber.

He heard the main tent flap opening, the sounds of someone striding across the chamber, a soft clinking as something was set on the ground.

"Good even, your Majesty," he heard his da say. "I bring you sustenance."  
>"Isn't it foolish to waste food on prisoners we're just going to kill tomorrow?" someone- was it Uncle Dafydd's second, Ioan?- asked, sounding bored.<br>"Tush, Ioan," Niall chided him. "That's not until tomorrow. Until then, we're happy to share our bounty."

Gregan had to work hard to bite back his scoff. It was wintertide; they were lucky if they found enough game to hunt to stretch into a week's worth of meals. He pressed his face to the gap in the tent flap, but from this position he couldn't see what "bounty" his da had brought for the Hightopp. He could, however, see that the Hatter had been tied to the central support pole of the tent, that Ioan stood beside him, his twin swords unsheathed, and Niall squatted before the Hightopp so they were face to face. Gregan shivered; he'd heard the guards muttering to each other this afternoon, about how the Hightopp was lost to Madness. He wouldn't want to be as close to the Hatter as his da was right now.

"All the abundance of the Outlands, offered now to you," Niall said, an ugly note of bitterness in his voice. "After all, it's only right for kin to share their fortunes. It's a pity you won't be able to join us tomorrow for the Welcoming Feast…"  
>"Welcomin' Feast, indeed," Tarrant scoffed. "Ye can barnie aw ye loch tae claeem th' lain, but th' Brae will ne'er claeem ye. Th' Nazari turned their backs oan their ain fowk, cest themselves aff frae th' Hightopps. Th' Brae willnae ken ye. Only th' Hightopps noo belang tae Witzend."<br>Niall smirked. "We are Hightopps still, Tarrant. Dafydd and his men could feel the Music of Tearmunn. She will know us, and welcome us home." He stood, smiling again, and considered the bound royal. "Enjoy your meal," he said, before leaving.

Gregan waited a long moment after Niall stood and walked out of the tent. Even after Niall was gone, Gregan remained where he stood, biting his lip uneasily as he mulled over what the Hightopp had said. Was he right? Had Tearmunn really forgotten the Nazari? Granted, his da sounded confident that they would be welcomed home with open arms… but what if? Could his da be wrong? And what did that mean for them, if he was? What if they got back into Underland, only to find that they would never get home? Would they be driven back into the Outlands- or would they be killed?

Frowning, Gregan backed away from the tent flap, absently grabbing the first shawl he could find before quickly walking out of the tent. He could only think of one person he might ask about this question, one man who might know if the Hightopp was bluffing or not. The question was, where might Uncle Dafydd be hiding? He'd noticed that the Hassasseen leader had been unusually withdrawn tonight. Usually, a party would see Dafydd drinking and laughing with his fellow soldiers, or pulling a pretty lass out to dance. Dafydd had always loved clan gatherings; family was the heart of the Nazari, and Dafydd had always had the biggest heart of them all.

And yet, Dafydd was nowhere to be seen. The soldiers drank and partied, but Dafydd wasn't among them; nor was he on the dance floor [and from what he could see, Dafydd's onetime Betrothed Afanen took his absence as a personal insult]. He wasn't dancing attendance on Grandmaman, or wheedling another huckabumpkin pasty from Eilwen. Dafydd had simply vanished.

They'd been talking about Uncle Dafydd earlier today, his da and grandmaman. This conversation he truly hadn't meant to overhear; they'd simply been in the room and hadn't noticed him. And who was he to interrupt the adults when they were talking about his favorite uncle?

"_I'm worried about him, Niall," Grandmaman had said. "He's not eating, and he hasn't spoken since he got back."  
>"I'm sure he's just tired, Mathair," Niall replied, sounding unconcerned. "He's had a grueling time of it, being trapped with the Puppet and all."<br>"I think it's more than that," Grandmaman had protested. "He's not acting like himself. He won't even speak to Ioan. He's been like this since you told the Hightopps about their daughter-"  
>"What, you think he's mourning her?" Niall scoffed. "Unlikely, Mathair. He told me himself he just needed time on his own. I'm sure he'll be fine tomorrow. And even if he's not, Tearmunn will heal him."<em>

Gregan had always looked up to his Uncle Dafydd. His own da was often busy, and he was ceann-fine and all; Gregan had always looked on him with a mixture of respect and awe. He didn't remember much of his Uncle Andras; he'd only been seven or so when that uncle had died. But Uncle Dafydd had always been there. Dafydd had been the one to teach him to shoot a bow and arrow, how to track game; he'd been the one Gregan had wrestled with. In many ways, Uncle Dafydd was like his second da. Gregan had missed him in the last year, and if there was something wrong with him as Grandmaman feared, Gregan wanted to fix it. And then ask him about Tearmunn.

So, step one: Find Uncle Dafydd. Clearly he wasn't enjoying himself with the rest of the clan, and it was unlikely Niall would have asked him to stand guard so soon after coming home. That meant he was probably somewhere by himself. He hadn't erected his tent yet, so he couldn't be hiding in there… maybe he'd gone for a walk in the desert?

Following that line of thought, Gregan made his way to the far edge of the camp. This was an area where the Nazari frequently wintered, so he was familiar with the land. They were close to the river, maybe Uncle Dafydd had gone there to think? Hoping his hunch would be right, Gregan headed out towards the river, keeping one eye on the camp behind him and one eye overhead. No need to be snatched by a Siren or a Harpy because he felt like a moonlit stroll…

Sure enough, he found Dafydd at the river, sitting on the ground and staring up at the moon, hanging full and red in the dull maroon night sky. Gregan bit his lip in apprehension; Dafydd's face was twisted with ugly emotions, pain and rage being the two most clearly identifiable. There was a third as well, plain as the other two but not as easy to name, and this third emotion was frightening; it had turned his fun-loving, laughing uncle into a cold, hard statue.

"Uncle Dafydd?" he asked softly.  
>"You shouldn't be outside the perimeter, Gregan," Dafydd said, without turning. "It's not safe out here. Shouldn't you be at the party?"<br>"Shouldn't you?" Gregan asked, sitting beside his uncle.  
>Dafydd smiled to himself, a twisted, knife-edge smile that sent chills up Gregan's spine. "Parties are no place for Mad men," he said softly.<p>

Gregan wanted to protest the point, argue that Dafydd wasn't Mad, that he would never lose control like that. But one look at his uncle's face silenced him. He had never seen Dafydd's Madness, and his family certainly hadn't discussed it when they knew he was there. But Gregan had heard the stories, from other men in the camp; how Dafydd's battle lust could consume him, leave him unstoppable and dangerous. Was that the Madness Dafydd was referring to? But why should he be struggling with it at all?

"Afanen will be disappointed," Gregan dared to say in an attempt to lighten the mood, earning himself a cuff upside the head.  
>"Aren't you a bit young to know about that sort of thing?" Dafydd asked gruffly.<br>"Not so very young," he reminded his uncle. "You were younger than I was when you underwent the Manhood Rites."  
>"Aye," Dafydd said absently. "Too young."<p>

They sat in silence for a long moment, Dafydd staring out blankly into the Outlands while Gregan watched Dafydd. Yes, something was very much wrong with his uncle, Gregan decided. Perhaps he was Mad after all; he looked as though he had lost the world, which was odd considering they were being given the universe tomorrow.

"Uncle Dafydd?" Gregan asked. "Is it true that you heard the Music of Tearmunn?"  
>Dafydd shook his head. "I didn't hear it," he said. "But I did feel it."<br>"So the land will know us?" he asked hopefully. Dafydd turned to look at him, frowning in confusion, and Gregan hurried to explain. "I heard Da talking to the Hightopp," he admitted. "The Hightopp said the land wouldn't accept us, because the Nazari were traitors."  
>"It's a long story, Gregan," Dafydd said.<br>Gregan shrugged. "We have time."  
>A small, cheerless smile quirked Dafydd's mouth. "Aye, I suppose we do." He tilted his head back, his eyes tracing patterns in the stars as he spoke. "The Nazari used to belong to the Hightopp clan, generations ago. We broke away when King Aleric started his warmongering, because we didn't believe he had the right to invade as he was. For that, we were cast out of clan and home."<br>"So… so we're related to the Hightopp?" Gregan asked, eyes wide.  
>Dafydd nodded. "Distantly, now, after so many generations. But yes. We're properly Hightopps. That's why your da thinks the land will still know us. But because we were cast off… that's why Tarrant says we'll never belong to Tearmunn again. We could go, but we wouldn't hear the Music. The laird of the Hightopps would have to recognize us and accept us back into the clan, and only the rightful laird can revive the Music. As much as Niall might wish he was, Tarrant is the Hightopp laird."<p>

Gregan sat still, his mind reeling. All his life, he'd been told that the Nazari would have to fight their way back home, that they had to destroy the Hightopp usurpers. But if they were related…

"But that's so simple!" Gregan exclaimed, jumping up. "All we have to do is ask the Hightopp to accept us!"  
>Dafydd looked up at Gregan, dark shadows behind his eyes. "Do you really think he'll accept the people who murdered his daughter?" he asked, his voice tightening as that third unidentified emotion erupted over his face.<br>"We can try, though!" Gregan pressed on, excitement blinding him to all else. "You can speak to him! He can accept us, and we can go home and hear the Music!"

Dafydd looked down at Gregan, his sapphire eyes hard. Gregan suppressed a shiver, trying to keep a composed face, but it was hard; whether because of the murky lighting of the Outlandish night or because of his Madness, Uncle Dafydd looked more dangerous than Gregan had ever seen. Would he even listen to Gregan in this mood?

"It probably won't work," Dafydd warned Gregan. "But it could be our only chance to keep this from becoming a bloodbath."  
>"So you'll do it? You'll ask him?" Gregan asked, hardly daring to believe that his idea was being taken seriously by an adult.<br>"I'll ask," Dafydd nodded. "I don't think Tarrant will agree, but I'll ask."

He glanced down at Gregan as they stood, his face set in lines Gregan was very familiar with. His da had the same face; this was the look he had when he was thinking and plotting. If Uncle Dafydd was anything like Da, Gregan was about to get his marching orders.

"I want you to find the Elders," Dafydd said. "Quietly, mind. Don't draw any attention to yourself. Just ask them if they'll meet with me in your da's tent. Be quick about it."

Gregan nodded and hurried off, grinning to himself. He couldn't believe his luck. He was still counted as a child among the Nazari, not worth listening to, and yet his uncle- who was one of the leaders of their clan!- was willing to listen to him and try his ideas. And if it worked and they got home… it would all be due to him. He would be the hero of his clan. And all before he'd achieved the Manhood Rites!

* * *

><p>The Crow had been flying all day. He had been commissioned by the Nazari ceann-fine to bear one of the Nazari and his prisoner out to the Death Gulges, a journey of no mean distance. To now be asked to carry his passenger all the way to the Border Mountains… that really was too much to ask. Yet, how exactly did one argue when one's passenger was pressing a bloody knife to one's neck? Especially when one had watched one's passenger use that very knife to kill their enemy? No, there was no safe way to refuse in such a situation. So the Crow ignored his aching wings, his fierce desire for a meal, and merely concentrated upon bearing his rider to the mountains.<p>

"Yoo're stallin', Spyug," his passenger accused him.  
>"It's only that I've been flying so long," the Crow attempted to defend himself. "If I might be permitted to rest-"<br>"If Ah permitted ye tae rest, ye woods lae me in th' middle ay nowhaur an' return tae th' Nazari wi' th' bark 'at Aam still alife," his passenger retorted. "Yoo'd best coorie if ye don't want tae begin losin' bluid."  
>Suppressing a groan, the Crow soared high on an updraft, beating his wings. "Are all Upland girls such trouble?"<br>His passenger smiled grimly, gripping the hilt of the dagger as her topaz eyes took on a deadly gleam. "Only those whose parents ur Champions ay Underlain."

The Crow squawked in relief when he saw a dark smudge looming in the distance, the red sky overhead abruptly changing to blue. He beat his wings hard, taking advantage of every tiny gust of wind in an effort to reach the mountains even a second earlier, so he could be free of his demanding little passenger.

"Fin' the ben pass 'at leids intae Witzend," she ordered him, leaning forward.

The Crow acquiesced, spying a winding footpath among the craggy mountain walls. He landed on the ground, allowing his passenger to scramble off his back.

"My payment?" he asked archly.  
>She glared at him. "Yer life shoods be payment enaw," she snapped.<p>

She leaned down, struggling to unwrap the large bundle she'd balanced on her lap since that morning. When he saw the flash of a shiny silver button, the Crow leaned down and picked it up in his beak, before cawing and flying off, happy to be away and free from the Champions' Daughter.

Regina watched the Bird fly away for a moment before looking down and rummaging in the pack again. Making a sound of satisfaction as she found what she sought, she swallowed the crumb of upelkuchen, blinking in disorientation as she adjusted to seeing the world normally again. After checking to be sure her tunic still covered everything essential, she rummaged through the pack, pulling out everything. Right. Berries, nuts and water, check. Boots, check. Breeches, check. Additional dagger, check.

Without wasting any time, Regina got to work. She slithered into the breeches, grabbing her knife and hacking off the extra material. She tied them around her slim hips as tightly as she could, leaving the tunic hanging loose. She stuffed the extra material she'd cut into each of the boots, then tugged them onto her feet. Still a bit loose, but they'd have to do. She repacked the food, water skin, and extra dagger into her pack, then slid it onto her back before hurrying off down the path. She didn't have much time…

"Reit," she muttered. "Next gonnae-go, Berserka."

She winced as she moved too quickly, one hand flying to the still-bloody cut on her torso. Regaining her right-proper-size had caused the wound to begin bleeding again, but she had neither the time nor the resources to deal with it. She'd simply have to ignore it, she thought grimly; she had more important things to worry about. Like preparing Witzend for war.

She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but her Madness-addled head was pounding, memories chasing each other around in an exhausting Caucus race. As much as she wanted to ignore everything that had happened, the events of the past few days- and just how long _had_ it been?- weren't content to stay locked up in the darkness of the back of her mind. The faster she walked, the more easily her thoughts caught up with her.

She had tried to put up a fight when Taran came for her this morning, but it had been useless to struggle. As the pishalver slid down her throat and she'd begun to shrink, she had made one last desperate attempt to free herself. The only thing her efforts had gotten her was a slash across her ribs as Taran's knife hand jerked. She had tried to snatch at one of her hairpins, hoping to use it as a weapon in her smaller state, but finally had settled for covering herself as best she could with a fold of her dress. Niall had slashed at the dress, crafting her a surprisingly serviceable short dress, while Taran drank his own share of pishalver. Niall had set Taran, Regina, and a pack of supplies on the back of a Crow, and the journey to the Gulges had begun.

Unlike his cousin, Taran hadn't bothered being courteous to Regina, for which she thanked him. Niall's courtly manners had irritated her, knowing that he meant to kill her. At least Taran called a spade a spade.

But that didn't mean that Regina had meekly accepted her fate. The second the Crow had landed on the dry, sunbaked ground, Regina had lunged at Taran, the surprise move knocking him to his feet. She had known time was of the essence; there was no way she could win a sustained fight against him. She had felt the Haziness growing and buzzing in her brain, and for once she welcomed it; if the Madness could help her stop thinking and act quickly she'd be grateful for it. The Fates had smiled upon her; in the course of their struggling, Taran's dagger had fallen out of his belt. Regina had grabbed it and plunged it into Taran's neck. His eyes had widened in surprise, and then pain, but it was too late to save himself. Without a moment's hesitation, Regina had dragged the knife across Taran's throat, sparing him any further pain and drenching her hands in blood.

She had stared at his corpse, but she had still been lost within the icy haze of the Madness. Without pausing to let herself think, she had grabbed his pack and pulled the dagger from his neck. Then she had returned to the tree where the Crow waited, and promised him the shiny Nazari button Taran had worn in exchange for passage to the Border Mountains.

She had been walking too fast; she had to stop. She leaned against the craggy rock face, one hand pressed to her bleeding torso as she struggled to breathe through the stitch in her side. She stared down at her injury, watching her blood mingle with Taran's as the Madness grew dark and hot and overpowering. Oh sweet Fates, she had killed again. And not just a Someone, but Dafydd's cousin. She had killed before, it was true, and it had been such a horrible experience that she'd sworn to herself that it was never to be repeated. Yet, without even a moment's hesitation, she had plunged a dagger into Taran's neck and ended his life. What kind of person was she, that at the time she hadn't thought twice about killing him? Did he have any less right than her to live? No, of course not. And yet, she had killed him. What kind of person did that make her? She had the blood of two men on her hands, how was she fit to rule?

Her shoulders shook with a dry sob. Oh, how was she going to face Dafydd after this? How would he ever forgive her? How could she forgive herself? She frantically scrubbed her hands down her thighs, as if she could wash the blood away.

"As Absolem says, nothing is ever accomplished with tears."

Regina's head jerked up with a gasp, and her eyes darted around seeking the source of the voice. When her eyes focused on the Cat, she whimpered in relief, sliding down the cliff face and collapsing on the ground.

"Witzend," she gasped through the tears of pain and Madness.  
>"Oh, Mistress, you are in a sorry state," Witzend purred sympathetically, disappearing in a puff of smoke before reappearing in Regina's lap. "And we have no extra Time to deal with that."<br>"It doesnae matter, Witzend," Regina said, drawing shuddering, painful breaths. "Ye hae tae tak' me tae Berserka. Ah need tae prepaur th' army."  
>"Yes you do," Witzend murmured. "You'd best be on your way, then."<br>"What's th' best way?" Regina asked, trying to steady herself.  
>"Some prefer the short way, others the long," Witzend replied. "But as for me, myself, I prefer the short cut."<p>

Regina didn't move as Witzend disappeared, reappearing in the limbs of a dead, twisted tree a few feet ahead. Humming to herself, Witzend pulled on a branch, grinning as part of the trunk fell away, revealing a path straight to the Cerulean Castle. Regina stared at the doorway, drunkenly weaving and lurching to her feet.

"You'd better hurry, Mistress," Witzend warned. "He's gone Mad, there's no telling what he'll do."

Regina blinked, frowning. He? Had her da lost control of himself again? She really didn't relish having to deal with a Mad Hatter; the last time she'd been face to face with his Madness he'd nearly taken off her head. Then again… perhaps he would be more manageable, since they were both Mad…

Regina nodded grimly, forcing herself to walk forward. She passed through the tree trunk, then staggered towards the castle, keeping her eyes focused on the front doors. She had no time, she had to hurry… she was late…

She was panting by the time she reached the front doors, and for a moment she simply slumped against them, leaning her forehead against the cool wood. She raised her fist, pounding weakly once, then twice more, her blood-slicked hands sliding down the door. She groaned as the doors swung open, nearly losing her balance.

"My word, Princess Regina!"

She looked up blearily as she was caught securely within the arms of a large, fearsome-looking Bear.

"General Koda," she sighed in relief. "We hae tae coorie. Ootlanders ur plannin' an invasion ay Witzend."  
>"What?" the acting Ace of Clubs exclaimed. "Where did you hear this?"<br>"They kidnapped me, General," Regina shook her head. "But ne'er min' 'at noo, we huvnae th' time fur tales. Ah want a body battalion ay Clubs left haur tae protect th' castle; lae will travel wi' me tae Iplam."  
>"Princess, you're injured," the Bear said, frowning in concern as he stared at the smear of blood on his paw. "And you're not well," he added, taking a good look at her sickly topaz irises.<br>"Ne'er mind!" she snapped. "It will keep. If we dornt gie tae Iplam, we'll lose th' entire queendom. Noo gie th' army ready, I'll be doon as suin as I've pit oan mah armur."

General Koda wasted no more time in arguing; he remained only long enough to ensure that Regina was firmly planted on her feet before taking off to prepare the army. Regina nodded grimly as she heard the alarm bells tolling; the sooner they were off, the sooner they could stop this insanity. Breathing shallowly, she staggered through the castle, one bloody hand pressing against the walls to keep herself upright.

She burst through the doors to her suite, ignoring Clover and Azalea's startled gasps. "Mah armur," she gasped, collapsing onto a couch and biting back a cry of pain as she leaned down to remove her boots.  
>"Lamb, you're hurt!" Azalea exclaimed, rushing forward.<br>"Aye," Regina said grimly, grunting as she kicked Taran's boots off. "Gezz me somethin' fur th' pain an' wrap me up, Ah hae tae lae."  
>"You shouldn't be going anywhere when you're hurt, and absolutely not in armor!" Azalea objected.<br>"Dornt argue wi' me," Regina barked, glaring at her maid. "Th' army is leavin' an' they need a Champion. Mathair an' Da ur thrang, sae I'll hae tae dae."

Azalea's lips pinched in displeasure, but she didn't try to argue any further. She helped Regina strip off her blood- and sweat-drenched clothes, gingerly washing off the long, shallow cut on the left side of Regina's torso. She spread a foul-smelling, thick green paste on it, and even before she'd finished wrapping a long bandage around Regina's torso she was sighing in relief as the pain receded. She quickly stepped into the thin tunic and breeches she wore beneath her armor, then stood impatiently as Clover and Azalea buckled on all the pieces. As soon as she was ready, she took off, strapping her short swords around her waist as she went.

The last time Regina had worn this armor, she had felt ill-equipped and unprepared for the task that was being asked of her. This time was different. This time, Regina was hell-bent on acting like the Champion she was supposed to be. She was a Champion begat of Champions, and she would prove it today. She would not allow the Nazari to succeed in their attempt to take over her home. She would fight to defend what was hers.


	8. Rebirth

**Author's Note**: Do you have any idea how difficult it is to write a chapter where you need your main character to be heroic, intelligent, and proactive, but he's stuck in the depths of despair? Getting Dafydd to focus on this chapter was next to impossible. I mean, I have characters that excel in brooding and do so as if it's going out of style, but… goddamn. He was _impossible_.

Tarrant, however, I had a lot of fun with. I've been looking forward to this chapter ever since I started writing this story. It's a big one for him, and something I've been building towards for a really long time. I was planning on writing more for this chapter, actually, but decided to push it back to the next chapter so we could focus on this moment for Tarrant. As usual, it went in a very different direction while I was editing; and as usual, I think the story is stronger for it. I adore this chapter.

**Original Character Face Claim**: Rhonwen Nazar is portrayed by Maggie Smith. Because I love the idea of McGonagall being around to be her sassy self.

**Disclaimer**: This chapter is unbeta'd, so all mistakes and flaws are mine.

**Special Thanks**: While I was editing this chapter, my good friend Sandra helped me rethink and rewrite pretty much everything Tarrant-related. She's really great about getting into Tarrant's Mad mind and getting him to make sense. Which is contradictory, but brilliant. Also, a million thanks to Thirteen Thorns for all of her help with this story during her tenure as my beta. Due to technological difficulties, she has to retire, so again, thanks so much for everything you did!

* * *

><p>The sun always dawned red in the Outlands; a red sun rising over a dull, sometimes cloudy, blood-red sky. Some mornings, it was almost beautiful; the sky would look like it was on fire with oranges and yellows, with the faintest tinge of blue over the Border Mountains if one was close enough to see it. But most of the time, it was like this; intimidating, barren, and unforgiving.<p>

Dafydd had never given much thought to the sunrise before. He had taken the dawns for granted; the only reason they meant anything was because it signified the Nazari were one day closer to reclaiming what was theirs. But today, this sunrise… this dawn was the most depressing he had ever seen. This sunrise marked the first day that Regina wasn't seeing. She wasn't kidnapped or misplaced this time; it wasn't a matter of finding and fetching her safely back. She was dead, and she was never coming home. Time was marching on, leaving her behind in the past- the one place where he couldn't follow her.

Could he, perhaps, follow her into Death? He wouldn't be the first to attempt it. What did life hold for him now? Yes, there were the Fearail, his family, his clan… but he had no idea how much of that would still survive after today. If it came to war between the Nazari and Witzend, Dafydd could lose the Fearail, and his only chance to return to Tearmunn. If he managed to avert war, he could lose his family. If he followed Regina, he wouldn't have to worry about any of it.

But then again… did he want to die? Even though he wasn't sure he had anything to live for, how could he be certain that Death would be any kinder to him? What if he couldn't find Regina on the other side? Or worse, what if she didn't want to share Death with him? Or perhaps worst of all, what if there _was_ no afterlife? What if Regina wasn't waiting on the other side of a thin veil? What if she had ceased to exist entirely? If he followed her into Nothingness, he wouldn't even be able to share Oblivion with her, because he wouldn't exist either.

No, better to live. At least in Life, she survived in his memories. He could keep her safe in his mind; there she would be forever young, always beautiful, perennially happy and healthy and safe. He would live, and keep her alive in his thoughts.

Yes, he would live. And while he lived, he would not rest until he had fulfilled Regina's dreams. He would see the remnants of her family reunited if he had to sew them together himself, and he would see her homeland safe from the threat of his family. After that… he had no idea. Yes, he was grimly determined to live, for her sake. But what kind of life would he have? He had survived perfectly well before her… but how could he manage without her?

He had no idea how she'd become so central to his identity. Ever since his Manhood Rites, he had never wanted for female company; in fact, he had resisted getting married so that he could enjoy the companionship of as many women as he liked. How was it that this wee slip of an Upland-raised girl had blinded him to every other woman in Underland? The women he had met in Underland, the girls he had known in the Outlands… none of them mattered any longer, because there had been _her_. Regina had existed, and he had loved her. How could any of those other women ever be enough now, since none of them were her?

He winced, closing his eyes. It did no good to dwell on any of this. Regina was dead, and he had a quest to fulfill for her. That had to be his focus.

Sighing tiredly, Dafydd returned his glance to the sky, judging the time from the sun's position as he wearily rubbed his face and scratched along the scruff of his two-day beard. He hadn't slept a wink last night; he'd been too busy talking to the Elders. Honestly, he was a little amazed that the Elders had listened to him, let alone agreed with Gregan's assessment. Perhaps it was optimism on their parts, or unawareness of Tarrant's nature, but Dafydd couldn't agree with their hope that they would be allowed home. Not after what their clan had done to Tarrant's beloved daughter. Still, it was their only chance to avert a war. Fates, Dafydd didn't want this to become a war; and very soon they would have their only opportunity to avoid that particular disaster.

He wondered, though, if he'd be able to make it through the next several hours without simply falling over dead of exhaustion. Niall and his army were marching out this morning. Before they made it to Tearmunn, Dafydd had to somehow get Tarrant to the Elders, then double back, cross over the mountains and rendezvous with the Deuces and, if he was very, _very_ lucky, round up the Club army from Berserka, and somehow get back to Tearmunn in time to stop Niall. And he would be doing all of this despite the fact that he hadn't slept in over three days, and was running on Madness.

Yep. This was going to be an interesting Day.

Still, there was nothing for it. The day was going to progress no matter what he did. One way or another, this debacle was going to be resolved today, and nothing he said or did could stop it. All that remained was to go through with it.

Forcing himself to straighten and stand tall, Dafydd strode through the Nazari camp, to his brother's tent. He walked in, finding Niall clustered around the table with two of his lieutenants and Ioan. Tarrant was still tied to the central post, and Dafydd had to use all of his control to keep his face neutral as he glanced at the Hatter, on who so much depended.

The first thing he realized was that Tarrant had Aged. His hair, which had been such a vibrant electric orange, was now stark white. His skin was almost grey, deeply incised with lines at eye and mouth. His eyes were cloudy, his gaze world-weary. Oh, this wasn't good; what if Tarrant had simply lost the will to live? What if he was Aging himself to Death? He was still Mad, if his topaz eyes were any indication; that didn't bode well at all. If Tarrant was Mad while he spoke with the Elders, they didn't have a Hope of persuading him to agree with their supplications. He sagged listlessly against the ropes binding him; Dafydd wondered if Tarrant had slept at all last night. Fully half of his face was bruised and swollen, which was entirely Dafydd's fault. His head must be pounding… Dafydd promised himself that at the first available opportunity he would do something about that. But not just yet. The charade still needed to be played; he hoped Tarrant would understand.

"How could they have vanished?" Niall snapped, glaring at his men. "They were tied up!"  
>"Thes is whit ye gie fur underestimatin' th' Alice," Tarrant drawled, sounding almost amused. "Ye shoods ne'er try tae cage a spyug, it'll aye fin' a way oot."<br>"Someone shut him up," Ioan drawled, with the briefest glance at Dafydd.

Dafydd quirked an eyebrow at his cousin and second. What was Ioan doing here? Hadn't he had some master plan to rescue Alice and Lily? Shouldn't he be focusing on that, instead of lollygagging around Niall's tent?

"What's happened?" Dafydd asked, helping himself to a large mug of bitterroot coffee.  
>"The Adamasi whelp and Alice have disappeared," Niall snarled, glancing over his shoulder at his brother.<p>

Oh. Well then. Apparently Ioan's plan was going swimmingly; better, at any rate, than Dafydd's plan to save Regina had gone. He glanced at Ioan, silently quirking an eyebrow at him; all the congratulations he could offer his cousin, surrounded as they were. One corner of Ioan's mouth rose in response, and Dafydd nodded slowly, as if in thought

"Mmm," he hummed noncommittally, sipping his bitter brew. "And she didn't take her husband with her? Odd."  
>"You'd know better than I. And where is Taran?" Niall asked impatiently. "He should have reported back long before now."<br>"No one's seen him, m'laird," one of the men reported. "His bed wasn't slept in last night. Nor has his Bird come back."

Dafydd's heart lurched at that, and he gripped his mug tightly. Taran had been the one to take Regina to the Gulges. He wasn't home yet? Had something happened? Had Regina struck back at Taran before he killed her?

"Dobber got whit he deserved fur crushin' mah butterfly," Tarrant said darkly, tilting his head back towards the Nazari.

Clenching his jaw, Niall strode over to Tarrant, clubbing him over the head with the hilt of his dagger. Tarrant groaned, slumping against the pole, still conscious but silent now. Nodding in recognition, Niall walked back to the table, sheathing his dirk.

"I can't wait on Taran," he decided. "Our plans must go through now."  
>"What about the prisoners?" one of the men questioned.<br>"I'll track them down," Ioan volunteered, folding his arms. "They can't have gotten far."  
>"Good," Niall nodded. "Our avian-catcher friends have promised to have a herd of Animals for us to ride over the Mountains into Witzend. We'll ride straight for Tearmunn. Once we've secured it, we'll take the capital. By tonight, we'll be feasting on the Brae."<br>"Th' Brae willnae ken ye," Tarrant predicted in a singsong voice. "She willnae lit ye anywhaur near 'er."

Why was it that in his Madness, Tarrant had no sense of when to keep his mouth shut? Was he _trying_ to get himself killed?

Actually, that could be his exact plan, Dafydd admitted to himself. If Dafydd felt like he had nothing to live for now that Regina was gone, surely Tarrant's feelings ran even deeper. From what Dafydd had heard- was it two days ago? Less?- Alice would be no comfort to Tarrant; indeed, if they met face to face again Dafydd couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be blood. What if Tarrant _was_ actively trying to shuffle off the mortal coil, to escape it all and be reunited with his child in the only way left to him?

Niall growled, glaring at the Hatter and snatching his knife again. Dafydd restrained his brother, catching his arm before he had time to attack Tarrant.

"Leave the Hatter to me," he said grimly. "I'll take him to join his daughter in the Gulges."  
>Niall considered for a moment, then nodded. "Be quick about it," he acquiesced.<br>"Of course," Dafydd nodded. "What's your plan for our non-combatants? Leave them in the Mountains or at Tearmunn?"  
>"Until we've secured Tearmunn it won't be safe to bring them over," Niall said. "And without the White Bitch's whelp to use as a bartering chip, I can't get her to lift the curse on the Mountains. They'll have to stay here."<p>

Dafydd nodded, silently thanking his brother for feeding him the perfect excuse to remain behind.

"Why don't I stay here?" he suggested. "I can organize our crossing as soon as you've secured Witzend."  
>"Are you sure?" Niall frowned. "I know you hate to miss a fight."<br>"Taking care of the Hatter will satisfy me," Dafydd shrugged, grinning darkly at his double meaning.  
>"Yes, I can imagine," Niall said. "Very well. I'll send a few of our men into the Mountains when we've won, and they'll build you a signal fire."<br>"We'll be waiting for it," Dafydd nodded.

Niall held out a hand, pulling Dafydd into an embrace. It took all of Dafydd's control not to break down in tears as he silently told his brother goodbye. He hated that they had been made enemies; he had spent all of his life looking up to and emulating this brother. Niall had been as much a father figure as a brother since the death of their da. And now he was the man that Dafydd had to thwart and defeat. What would happen between them, if Dafydd's plan somehow miraculously worked and Tarrant and the Elders came to an understanding? Was it possible for Niall and Tarrant to co-exist? Could there be a reckoning between them, or was Dafydd about to lose his brother?

Fates, he wished this could go differently. This choice was tearing him apart; he didn't want to have to choose between his family and his home, between his brother and the memory of his love. He had hoped so hard that he could avert this exact fate, that he could have both. Yet, what could they do differently? Dafydd had sworn to avert war and avenge Regina; Niall had sworn to retake Tearmunn and destroy the Blue Royals. There was nothing they could do but fulfill their destinies, even though that meant pitting brother against brother.

He forced himself to step away, to walk outside and set the plan in motion.

"Fetch me our horses, Gregan," he ordered his nephew.

He gently pushed his nephew towards the stretch of tough windgrass where the horses had been tethered upon Dafydd and Tarrant's arrival. As Gregan dashed off, Dafydd walked back into the tent, ignoring his brother and his lieutenants as he squatted behind Tarrant and began untying him.

"You have to trust me," he murmured, low enough that no one would overhear.  
>"Aye, laddie," Tarrant said softly. "I've trusted ye thes far."<p>

Dafydd nodded, tethering Tarrant's hands and leading him outside. Gregan was waiting for him, holding Arturias and Windmare's lead ropes. Dafydd sighed in relief; the horses looked well cared for, at least. Perhaps a bit dusty, but that couldn't be helped. Tarrant, scorning Dafydd's help with applaudable contempt, lifted himself onto his horse, looking every inch the disdainful monarch as Dafydd tethered him to his Mare. Nodding in satisfaction at Tarrant's performance, Dafydd swung himself onto Arturias, tying Tarrant's reins to his own saddle.

"Come along, your Majesty," he announced. "Your daughter awaits you."

That had been cruel of him, and he fought back a flinch. Tarrant didn't respond to Dafydd's jibe; didn't even glance at the younger man as they left the camp behind, heading south towards the Death Gulges.

They rode in silence. Dafydd glanced over his shoulder every once in a while to ensure that Tarrant hadn't fallen off his mount, but apart from that the men didn't look at each other, or attempt to speak. Soon enough, the camp had faded to a dark blur on the horizon. Dafydd reined in his horse under the shade of a few scraggly trees, drawing the animals to the bank of the river so they could drink while he swiftly untied Tarrant and stepped back to let the Hatter jump off his horse.

"Whit noo?" Tarrant asked, rubbing his uninjured temple gingerly. "Ah presume ye hae some sort ay plan 'at doesnae involve killin' me."  
>"I do," Dafydd nodded. "We just need to wait here until I'm sure Niall and his army have left."<br>"Ah thought ye an' th' Fearail _waur_ th' army," Tarrant frowned.  
>"We are. The standing army, at any rate," Dafydd explained. "But all Nazari men are trained as soldiers, and in times of war they're all drafted into service. Even the women are taught to handle weapons and defend themselves."<p>

He withdrew a small pack of food from one of his saddlebags, spreading the contents on the ground. There was a hunk of bread, some tough Siren-meat sausage, and sharp horsemilk cheese. Tarrant withdrew a teapot, cracked cups, and a handful of leaves from one of his many pockets, and bustled about preparing tea. Now how on earth had Tarrant managed to keep a full tea set with him through the last two days?

Actually, why in all the kingdoms was Dafydd questioning this? It was the Mad Hatter; of _course_ he had tea on him.

They ate quietly, leaning against some boulders. Dafydd glanced at Tarrant as the older man balanced his teacup on his leg; the swelling on his face had yet to go down, and the bruises had darkened to ugly shades of purple and yellow.

"I'm sorry about that," he said contritely, nodding towards the bruising.  
>"Ye waur keepin' yer cowre," Tarrant shrugged. "Cooldnae lit yer brither ken yoo'd changed. I've hud waur than thes."<br>"And at my hands," Dafydd said ruefully.  
>"Aye," Tarrant nodded, smiling faintly. "'at Ah hae."<p>

Dafydd nodded slowly, looking out over the horizon as his mind drifted back to his and Tarrant's first interaction, when Dafydd served as Ilosovic Stayne's bodyguard. He had tortured Tarrant mercilessly for hours in the dungeons of Salazen Grum, and felt no remorse in doing so. In fact, he'd felt a grim sort of pleasure in the knowledge that he had the Hightopp in his grasp at last. He had never imagined that he would actually come to the Hightopp's aid, that he would defy his brother and everything he had ever wanted to help Tarrant keep his homeland. Tarrant was right; Dafydd had changed. And he had Tarrant's daughter to thank for it.

It was ironic, really; bards told stories with this exact premise. Two factions warring for generations, until the heirs of the thrones meet and fall in love, a love grand and deep and true, beautiful and strong enough to overcome the years of animosity, a love powerful enough to turn the tide and end the hatred.

Dafydd sighed. As far as stories went, his was turning out to be not so much triumphant heroic saga, but rather a tragedy. The woman he loved was dead, killed by his own family. He would never know if she had loved him in return, if she had even thought of him as anything other than her captain of the guard. He was about to betray his brother in order to help his clan's enemy. He had no assurances that any part of his plan was going to be successful, and either way he had no idea what he would do with himself when this day was over.

But he didn't have the time to ruminate about it; it was time to throw the dice and let them fall as they may.

"Time to go," he said, standing.  
>"Whaur ur we gonnae?" Tarrant asked, still reclining, his eyes closed against the harsh sun. "An' when ur ye plannin' oan tellin' me exactly whit yer plan is?"<br>Dafydd sighed. "We're going back to the camp. The Council of Elders would like a word with you."  
>"Fa in th' nam' ay blessed Underlain is th' Cooncil ay Elders?" Tarrant frowned, cracking his eyes open.<br>"Advisers," Dafydd replied. "The keepers of tales and history and lore. When the ceann-fine needs advice, he goes to the Elders."  
>"An' they want a wuid wi' me?" Tarrant asked confusedly. "Fur whit?"<br>"A favor," Dafydd said. "It's better to let them explain it."

They mounted their horses and rode hard, hurrying back to the camp. To Tarrant's surprise, no one was bustling about in the business of dismantling the camp and preparing to leave, as he had been expecting. There was a hush to the camp, a kind of breathless anticipation that caused fissions of anticipation to rush along Tarrant's limbs. His suspicions were only aroused further at the way the Nazari were reacting to him. They stared up at Tarrant as if he were their savior, their Champion. And it made him distinctly uneasy; just what sort of plan was Dafydd hatching? These people hated him. They called him a usurper and a traitor, and that was to his face; who knew what they said behind his back. Only hours ago they had been planning to kill him; why were they now watching him as though he were their only hope of salvation?

Tarrant slid off his horse as Dafydd did, following the younger man as he approached the ceann-fine's tent. Dafydd turned, holding aside the flap and silently motioning Tarrant forward. For a moment, Tarrant frowned, uneasy. What was going on? Why was Dafydd being so mysterious? Was this a trap? He certainly hoped not, because he couldn't bring himself to believe that Dafydd had deceived him. Tarrant had seen the Look on Dafydd's face when they learned of Regina's death; he had been utterly devastated, destroyed, damaged. He had seen desperation and despair in Dafydd's eyes, and finally disgust. No, if Dafydd was planning against anyone, it was the Nazari. Bolstered by this knowledge, Tarrant adjusted his Hat and stepped forward, walking past Dafydd into the tent.

He found the tent to be empty but six elders huddled around a low-burning fire, all wrapped in cloaks and blankets against the chill of the morning. Three men, their hair long and white and hanging loosely around their wrinkled faces; three gaunt women, their hair loosely braided, spindly fingers clutching clay mugs of steaming tea. They looked up at Tarrant with eyes that seemed ageless, eyes that had seen hardship and hunger and hatred and hope. It was this last that lit them all up now.

"Welcome, Laird Hightopp," one of the ancient women intoned, her voice gravelly. "We welcome you to this Council of Elders."  
>"Ah thenk ye," Tarrant burred. "Dafydd said ye wanted a wuid?"<br>"We did," the woman said. "Please, sit with us."

Tarrant's gaze swept through the tent again, looking for any hidden soldiers or potential traps. Upon seeing none- and reassured by the knowledge that Dafydd stood just inside the tent flap- Tarrant slowly sat down, wincing as he irritated various bruises and aches and pains. Fates, he felt old; as old as these Elders. Idly, he wondered exactly how old they were. He himself had stopped Aging ages ago; so long ago that to be honest he wasn't sure what his Age truly was. Was he, perhaps, just as old as these people with whom he sat?

"You don't trust us," the old woman said, observing him. "I can't say I blame you, given all that has been done to you in the past two days. Perhaps it would ease your mind to know you are among friends. I am Rhonwen," she said, before pointing to each of the others. "This is Cefin, Dylis, Gethin, Gruffudd, and Gwawr."  
>"Kennin' yer names doesnae make us friends," Tarrant said. "Whit is it ye want wi' me?"<br>"You know the history of our clan, Laird Hightopp," Rhonwen said. "You know that our people are your people, that we are the same. That your homeland is ours also."  
>"Aye," Tarrant said warily. "An' Ah ken 'at yer ceann-fine was willin' tae kill me an' mah dochter tae tak' mah lain frae me."<br>"He was," Gwawr spoke up, smoking from a long-stemmed pipe. "But do not mistake us, we were not supportive of his actions. We wish to return to our homeland, but we have no wish for further war."  
>"That's rich," Tarrant scoffed. "Yer ceann-fine is marchin' oan Iplam reit noo, wi' a whole battalion ay soldiers behin' heem."<br>"_We_ do not wish for war, Laird Hightopp," Dylis stated. "We only wish to return home. To rejoin our clan."

There was silence for a moment, and Tarrant wondered uneasily what exactly the Elders were going to demand of him. That he give up his claim to their land? Never! He would pick up his claymore and kill, if he had to, to protect what was his.

"We are asking you to reclaim us as your people," Rhonwen said, her voice ringing with finality. "Accept us back into the Hightopp clan."  
>"Whit?" Tarrant exclaimed, shooting straight up, his head reeling.<p>

He stared at the Elders, stunned. Accept the Nazari back into his clan! To open his arms to the traitors who had killed his daughter? Never!

His daughter…

Tarrant turned away from the Elders, staring into space as he exhaled tiredly. His daughter. His beautiful, laughing, singing, dancing child… She was gone now. Still and silenced. Was there some kind of afterlife, some place where she was now dancing to the Hightopps' Song with the rest of their clan? His brother Emand had been a brilliant dancer; was he now teaching Regina the finer points of the Futterwhacken? Was she singing with his mother Silyna, their voices blending and rising into the heavens? Had she met her many cousins, and were they chasing each other around some heavenly rendition of the Brae in an elaborate game of Tag?

Regina had been the one who wanted him to restore Iplam, he thought dully. Tarrant had spent years running away from his homeland; he had allowed the charred remains of the village to remain and be overgrown. His clan had been murdered, and he had wanted to leave it all in the past. It wasn't until Regina had been restored to him that he had agreed to begin rebuilding. And even then, he had been doing it more for her than for himself. She had felt the shades of their clan dancing around her, she had felt the Song in the depths of her soul, and she had wanted a way to connect with them. She had wanted to resurrect the Music of the Brae; she had wanted it all to _live_ again. And she had begun to make him want that, too.

But now Regina was dead, finite, as far away as the rest of Tarrant's family. Slipped through his fingers, to a place where he could not follow. What did keeping Iplam matter now? It wasn't as if he could restore the Music, not without Regina. And it wasn't as though there were anyone to share the Brae with. Alice had clearly given her opinion about the importance of reviving the Heartland when she refused to come with Tarrant and Regina for their daughter's birthday party. Iplam was his birthright, but he couldn't return there, not alone. Not without his child.

But the Nazari… they still loved their Tearmunn. It had been hundreds of years since they were banished, and their sole aim was still to return to their homeland. Tarrant might abhor the Nazari for what they had done in their quest to return home- both in allying with Ilosovic Stayne and in killing Regina- but he could respect their yearning for home. Iplam meant nothing to Tarrant now, not without his family to enjoy it with him. Why not give the land to people who clearly cherished it?

"Ah cannae accept th' idea ay Niall as ceann-fine ay Iplam," Tarrant said heavily, the words coming slowly, not moving to sit back down or even to grace the Elders with eye contact. "Nae efter whit he's dain tae me an' mine. If Ah waur tae allaw ye tae return haem, Ah wooldnae allow Niall tae rule Tearmunn. Whit dae ye say tae 'at?"

Dafydd's eyes widened, and he stared at Tarrant in shock. From the way the Hightopp was talking, it almost sounded as if he were actually considering this Mad idea. Was it possible that his clan was about to be allowed home? But… what? _Why_? Of course Dafydd would be floored and endlessly grateful, but… what possible motivation could be driving Tarrant to accept this?

Rhonwen considered Tarrant for a moment before answering. "You are the Laird of Iplam," she finally said. "If you could not abide the idea of Niall ruling after you, it does lie within your power to name your successor."  
>Tarrant nodded slowly, finally glancing back at the Elders. "Dafydd," he said.<p>

This time, Dafydd froze, his jaw dropping. Tarrant couldn't possibly be serious about this. _Him_? Dafydd had failed Tarrant in the gravest and most grievous way; he had allowed Tarrant's only child to be killed, after swearing to give his life to protect hers. And Tarrant was naming him as his heir? Promising to give Dafydd what belonged to Regina? _Why_?

"Th' lain knows Dafydd," Tarrant declared, his gaze sweeping towards the stunned young warrior. "If mah dochter hud had 'er way, she woods hae sewed heem intae th' Music awreddy. Dafydd will rule as Laird ay Iplam efter me," he stated. "If ye accept 'at condition, 'en Ah will agree tae yer request. Whit say ye?"  
>"Tarrant, you can't mean this," Dafydd said, walking forward uncertainly.<br>Tarrant observed the younger man for a moment before speaking. "I've lost mah dochter," he said softly. "Th' only hin' 'at matters tae me. Withit 'er whit use dae Ah hae fur Iplam? But ye… ye loove Tearmunn. An' ye kent whit th' Brae meant tae Regina. Yoo'll build 'er lain back th' way she wanted it."

Well, Dafydd couldn't argue with that. Seeing that Dafydd wasn't going to argue anymore, Tarrant nodded, before returning his attention to the Elders. He swallowed hard, feeling the Words hang heavy on his tongue. Words had Power; these Words in particular held the Power to transform his entire life. And despite the Madness befuddling his brain, he was mindful of how important they were, so he gave them his full attention as he opened his mouth to release them.

"Ah, Tarrant son ay Wendym, Laird ay Iplam, dae accept an' claeem ye as mah ain," he said slowly. "Whit ance was rent, Ah noo restair. Whit ance was cest aff is reclaimed. Ye ur nae longer outcast; ye ur Hightopp."

Tarrant swallowed hard, feeling a buzzing throughout his entire being as the Words bound him to these people, and tied them to him. It was as though they were pieces of cloth being stitched back together, and they were startled and a bit frazzled to feel their frayed threads joining once again, becoming whole. Their energies were changing, melding together and becoming something new. The discordant energy of the camp was beginning to feel familiar and soothing, as they recognized each other and became one family again.

"Weel," he said, clearing his throat. "That's 'at."

Dafydd nodded silently, looking around wonderingly. He couldn't believe this; had this really happened? They were going home? This had to be a dream. Actually, he wouldn't be entirely disappointed if this was a dream; that meant he could wake up and find Regina safe, peacefully dreaming just a few feet away from him. Was it worth it, to be allowed to return to his ancestral homeland, if Regina was the price he had to pay? Was it worth it to be a Hightopp again, when he would never get to dance with Regina on the Brae again? Would it matter that he could finally hear the Music she had so loved, when she wouldn't be there to listen to it with him?

"Dafydd, order th' camp dismantled," Tarrant ordered, jerking Dafydd out of his ruminating. "Let's gang haem."

Dafydd nodded, inclining his head to Tarrant before turning and walking out the tent. He stared at the barren, desolate plains where he'd been born and spent almost all of his life. He was never coming back to the Outlands, he knew. Well, that wasn't quite true. He was going to the Gulges, and he was going to find Regina's body. He knew Tarrant would want to bury his child in Iplam; Fates, Dafydd wanted to bury her there. But after he'd fetched Regina's body and brought her home, he would never come back to the land of his birth again. It was a strange feeling, to know that this was the last time he'd ever view this land again. Stranger still that he felt nothing for the land he'd known for his entire life. What did he care for the Outlands? He was a Hightopp; he belonged to Iplam. Home lay on the other side of the Mountains, not beneath his feet.

"Dafydd?"

Dafydd turned his head, watching his mathair as she left her tent, approaching him quickly, her entire being buzzing with tension.

"I've heard rumors," she said. "We all have. That the Council was going to ask the Hightopp to bring us to Tearmunn."  
>"It's true," Dafydd replied, seeing no point in keeping it a secret. "He's accepted us back into the clan. We're Hightopps. We're going home."<p>

Gwynyth stared at Dafydd for a long minute, before her mouth slowly turned up in an astonished, wide smile.

"I can't believe it," she said, shaking her head.  
>"Neither can I," Dafydd admitted. "But it's the truth. Tarrant's ordered the camp dismantled. We're leaving now."<br>"Leave that to me," Gwynyth said, a moment before rushing off.

Dafydd watched her go, sighing. His mathair would spread the word for him; the clan would be ready to leave within half an hour. He needn't worry about that anymore. So he let his gaze drift towards the horizon, in the direction of the Gulges.

"I'm coming for you," he promised her in a whisper. "Just a while longer, dearbadan-de."

He hoped that, if Regina could see him from wherever she was, she wasn't angry with him for usurping her place. She was Tarrant's daughter, his heir; she should have been the next Lady of Iplam. He hoped that she wouldn't be angry that he would be ruling over her beloved homeland, that his people were coming to claim what had once belonged to her people. He hoped that wherever she was, that she knew everything. That their clans had become one, that he was fighting for her dreams… that he had loved her, and always would.


	9. The Choice

**Author's Note**: This chapter has the dubious honor of being one of the most heavily edited and rewritten chapters in all of Book Two. As usual, it's all Dafydd's fault. The last five pages or so of this chapter never would have happened if Dafydd hadn't gone Mad. Instead of getting mad at the stubborn, ridiculous Outlander though, I was absolutely delighted that he went and mucked things up so badly for himself. I loved rewriting this chapter.

**Special Thanks**: Millions of thanks and a hundred warm welcomes to my shiny new beta, Ranguvar27!

* * *

><p>Lily was pacing. Striding back and forth, heedless of the early-morning sun that was already relentlessly beating down upon them. Hands on her hips, an impatient scowl on her face, Lily didn't speak, or shed more tears for Regina's demise; all her energy was focused into her long, agitated steps back and forth across the cracked, dusty ground.<p>

Alice couldn't say she blamed Lily for her impatience. Quite honestly, if Alice had the energy- and the mobile joints- she would be pacing, as well. They had been waiting at this waterhole since their escape from the Nazari camp. Alice wasn't entirely sure how long they had been waiting, but that hardly mattered. The point was, they were waiting, and they were both sick of waiting. Neither of them had made friends with Patience… Alice leaned back against Lewis' side, making herself comfortable against the reclining Bandersnatch as she watched Lily's back and forth progress.

"Did Ioan say when he would join us?" Alice asked, peering back in the direction of the camp.  
>"No," Lily shook her head. "Just that he'd get Tarrant and follow us. You're sure we can't just go on our own? We don't have much time-"<br>"No," Alice negated. "There's no point in disrupting the plan you and Ioan set. Your plan, at least, has been going as you intended," she added with a bitter smile.

Lily sighed heavily, ceasing her pacing. She bowed her head for a long moment before turning to face the Aged Queen.

"I'm so sorry, Alice," she said softly.

The words echoed in the quiet of the Outlandish desert. At those words, Alice sighed deeply, resting her head back against Lewis' side as something heavy in her chest released, allowing her to breathe for the first time since she'd heard the news of her daughter's demise.

They hadn't faced the truth of it before now, she thought idly. They had raged against the men who'd committed the deed, they had lost themselves in their despair and in the hazy fogginess of numb disbelief. But none of them had actually stood up and stared the truth squarely in the face until now. They had raged at the men who had killed Regina, but they hadn't acknowledged the fact that she was dead.

Dead. Not lost, not gone. Dead. Removed from Life. Existing no more.

In truth, it was almost a sick and twisted relief to finally give in and accept it. There would be no repeat of those eighteen terrible years of Madness, when Regina was Lost and they slowly wasted away clinging to faint threads of Hope that she might be restored. This was something definite and permanent; Regina was beyond their reach now. There was no bringing her back this time; they couldn't wait for her to return. And as much as it hurt to face that, as painful as it was to acknowledge that Regina's life had been taken from her, at the same time it was a profound relief to be able to release her. They had a definite answer this time; they knew where Regina was, and they knew that she was never coming back. They could let her go; let their little butterfly fly away into the great blue sky. It was over.

Alice was quite sure that things wouldn't be so simple when they returned to Underland. When they had to go back home and forge a life without Regina, Alice was positive she would rage and scream and cry and rain curses down upon the Spirit of Underland for taking her daughter from her again. But here, in the quiet of the red desert, with everything so barren, so plainly black and white, it was all very simple. The simplicity was comforting in its harsh unforgivingness, and Alice was grateful for it. At least for now. And even if she wasn't thankful later, right now she was at peace, and for now, if only for now, it was enough.

"We tried," she said heavily, her voice quiet. "We did our best. Now we have to think ahead, I suppose."

"Thinking ahead" was rapidly becoming "thinking about now." When Ioan joined them, the three of them were traveling over the Border Mountains and into Witzend. Alice would round up her army of Clubs, while Lily and Ioan raced to Marmoreal to get reinforcement Diamond battalions. Then they would have a battle. Alice hoped that Tarrant wouldn't mind that too terribly much; he had been working so hard on rebuilding the Brae, and now it was about to be plunged into war. Would Iplam once again run red with blood, Alice wondered, a sickly hollow feeling settling in her stomach. Was she about to commit an act just as heinous as the one the Bluddy Begh Hid had? But what else could she do, with the Nazari so intent on taking their homeland by force?

"Which only brings us back to the point," Alice continued, more to shut her thoughts off than anything. "We need to wait for Ioan."  
>"Can we afford to wait much longer?" Lily argued. "If we delay too much more, the Nazari won't meet any resistance in Iplam, and they'll have taken over everything before we can get back. Although… perhaps it would be easier if we were forced into the offensive," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "We could hem the Nazari in, completely surround them."<br>"But we'd be trapping them on the Brae," Alice pointed out. "We don't want them anywhere near the Hill." Sighing heavily, she rubbed her forehead. "Well, this just brings us back to where we started," she admitted. "We need to return to Witzend before the Nazari get there. But I don't want to march on Iplam without Tarrant. It is his land, after all."

Frowning, Alice looked around, glancing at the shadows on the ground.

"Very well. If Ioan and Tarrant haven't found us by the time that shadow reaches that log," she said, pointing to the growing shadow of a large boulder, which was headed in the direction of a log resting by the waterhole, "we'll leave without them."

Lily glanced down at the shadow, then nodded her assent and plopped down on the log, her arms dangling over her knees as she bowed her head.

"I can't believe she's really gone," she said softly, staring down at the dry, hard dirt. "I mean, it shouldn't feel any different, should it? She's been gone most of my life. I've only gotten six months with her. But…"  
>"But of course it's all different," Alice said, smiling humorlessly. "Because she's not gone. It would be much easier if she was, we could simply fetch her back again."<br>"I don't suppose we could barter with Death?" Lily asked, smiling weakly.  
>"We'd not be the first to try," Alice said ruefully. "I can't think of anyone who's ever succeeded."<p>

Lily sighed, staring off into the distance. A moment later she was on her feet, shading her eyes against the morning sun as she stared intently towards the horizon.

"I think that's Ioan," she said. "Aggravating man, what took him so long?"  
>"Is Tarrant with him?" Alice asked, struggling to stand and wincing as her Aged joints protested.<br>"I can't tell at this distance," Lily answered. "I would assume so, though."

They didn't have a long wait; the rider was racing hell for leather towards them. Almost before they could process the fact that it was in fact Ioan, he had jumped off his horse, a huge grin on his face. He scooped Lily up, spinning her around and laughing as she shrieked in surprise.

"Ioan? What on earth-?" Alice blinked. "Where's Tarrant?"  
>"He's made us clan again!" Ioan crowed. "We're going home!"<br>"What are you going on about?" Lily asked, tottering as Ioan plopped her back on her feet.  
>"Tarrant! He's accepted us back! He's made us Hightopps!" Ioan grinned, nearly babbling because he was speaking so quickly. "He and Dafydd have averted the whole war!"<p>

Alice stared, stunned. She was dimly aware that Lily and Ioan were still talking- or rather, arguing, if the cadence and volume were any indication- but she didn't have the attention to spare for them.

Tarrant had done _what_? How could he? Had he forgotten that these were the very people who only two days ago had killed their daughter? How could he have made them clan again? Why was he accepting them into his family? She knew that they had to move on from Regina's death, but… _this_? How could he do this? How could he betray their daughter's memory by making a family with her murderers?

Family… Alice flinched, laying a hand on her chest as her heart lurched painfully. Was this some sort of punishment, because of what Alice had done? She had abandoned Tarrant and Regina for her crown, denied them the ability to restart the Music on the Brae. Was Tarrant consoling himself by creating a new family? One which didn't include her?

She groaned softly as the pain in her heart worsened. The instant her knees began to buckle, Lewis was there, groaning and whimpering as he used his bulk to shore her up. But the task proved to be too much for the poor beast, and Alice sank to the ground in a graceless, painful heap, gasping for breath as she saw stars.

"Alice!" Lily exclaimed, running to her.

She wasn't sure what Lily and Ioan were saying to her or to each other; her ears seemed most curiously clogged, her head seemingly stuffed with cotton. She stared at them blankly, flinching as her heart lurched painfully again; why would it not quiet down?

"Oh Fates, Alice!" Lily exclaimed, peering into Alice's eyes. "I'm not a healer! We need to get her home to my mother," she said urgently, glaring at Ioan. "Put her on the Bandersnatch."

Ioan glared back at Lily; first she was going to insult him and his people, call them murderers and usurpers, and then she was going to order him around? Still, there was no time to argue, not if they were going to save Alice. He boosted Alice onto Lewis' back, holding her steady long enough for Lily to scramble onto the animal behind her. Leaving Lily to support Alice and get Lewis under control, Ioan stalked to his own Horse. As soon as he was in the saddle, they were off, racing for the Border Mountains. They didn't have a moment to lose. Not if they were going to stop Niall and his men… not if they were going to save Alice from whatever was happening to her.

Lily felt cold all over, and she clenched her jaw so tightly it ached. It was uncomfortable, cradling the taller, older woman's form back against her as they galumphed along on the Bandersnatch's back, but as the alternative was allowing Alice to fall to the ground, she put up with it. They weren't going to have time to get all the way to Marmoreal, she knew it. Alice needed attention as soon as they could get it, and Marmoreal was hours away from Witzend. They didn't have that kind of Time. Lily didn't know who the Blue Royals' personal Healer was, but she very much hoped that they were at home and able to work immediately.

"Hold on, Alice," she whispered. "Just a little while longer."

She couldn't help but glance helplessly at the sky every few moments. The sun was moving too quickly, wasn't he? How was the day passing so quickly? At this rate it would be sundown before they even passed over the Border Mountains, and they would certainly be too late to save Witzend from the Nazari… the Hightopps… whatever they were now.

Lily glared at the approaching mountains. She couldn't believe what Tarrant had done. Had he gone Mad? He must have gone Mad; there was no other possible solution for why he had accepted the Nazari as his clan. These were the people who had killed Gigi; why on earth would Tarrant reward them, hand them everything they wanted?

Ah well. There'd be plenty of time to find out what had happened later. After they had taken care of Alice.

The pathway through the Border Mountains took a torturously long time. It felt like they were slogging through molasses; every step took three times longer than it should have. And they didn't have the time to spare; Alice needed every second they could get her. Alice's color was alarmingly pale, and her breathing left much to be desired. Lily wasn't a healer, but one didn't have to be to realize that something was very, very wrong with the Queen of Clubs. This had happened after Ioan, the great galumphing idiot, came bursting upon them with his news; perhaps he'd caused her to have a Heartache? If so, time was of the essence; the last thing Lily wanted was for a Heartache to worsen, and become a Broken Heart. Tarrant would never forgive her if she allowed Alice to die…

Finally, finally, they escaped the hold of the Border Mountains, and descended the foothills into the rolling plains of Witzend. Lily didn't even bother sighing in relief as the unending reds of the barren Outlands became the familiar blues and greens of Underland; none of that meant anything if they didn't get help soon. Lewis bayed, seemingly not needing Lily's impatient kick to take off in his fastest run, balooing like mad as he went. Lily didn't glance behind to see if Ioan was keeping up; for all she cared, the sodding moron could rot in the Mountains. She needed to get Alice to Berserka.

She lost track of time as Lewis ran, but it was sometime in the early afternoon when Lewis collapsed in a heap at the foot of the stairs of the Cerulean Castle. Lily scowled at the startled Clubs who clustered around the Bandersnatch.

"Don't stand there gawking!" she snapped. "Can't you see your Queen needs the Healer?"  
>"Isabeau's not here, Princess," one of the Clubs, a Seven, informed her. "She left for Iplam this morning, with the army."<br>Lily stopped short, whipping around to stare at him. "The army? The army's already at Iplam? How? Who knew to bring them?"  
>"Well… I mean, the Princess came and got them this morning," Seven stuttered.<p>

The Club yelped as Lily grabbed his arms, a frantic look in his eye when he registered how angry Lily was.

"What Princess?" Lily demanded, shaking him.  
>"P-Princess Regina, of course!" Seven squeaked.<br>Lily broke away from him, staring. "That's not possible," she said, breathing heavily.  
>"I-I'm sorry?" Seven tried, unsure of how to answer the White Princess. "She was in a right bad state when she came home, but she wouldn't let anyone look at her, she said that Outlanders were attacking Iplam-"<br>"It's not possible," Lily repeated blankly.

_Sometimes I believe in six impossible things before breakfast…_

She staggered a step or two back from the Club, before her feet took over and she found herself sprinting out of the castle, screaming for Ioan.

"What? What is it?" he asked a panicked look on his face as he grabbed her arms.  
>"She's alive," Lily gasped, pushing past him. "Get me a horse!" she snapped at a gawking Card.<br>"What do you mean, she's alive?" Ioan asked, bewildered.  
>"Gigi," Lily said, whipping around, her face lit up with disbelief and hope. "She came here this morning. She's alive. She's going to Iplam."<p>

Ioan's face lit up with joy, but in an instant his joy had paled to fear, and sick dread.

"Niall… Oh, _brimini_!" he cursed, sprinting for his horse.  
>"You. Five," Lily barked, snapping imperiously at the Club. "Organize a litter for the Queen. Bring a small detail of Clubs to protect her, and get her to Iplam as quickly as you can. She needs the Healer, and if Isabeau's at Hightopp Hill then we have to bring Alice to her. Now go, and make sure someone is in charge of defending the castle in case the Outlanders get here."<p>

She didn't wait to see if the Club followed her orders; she simply sprinted for the barracks to rouse up some spare armor and weaponry. They had no time to lose. If Regina was alive… if she was headed to battle in Iplam with the Club army… then they had to hurry. There was no time to amass the Diamonds; they had to get to Iplam, _now_.

* * *

><p>It had taken the newly-made Hightopps less than two hours to dismantle their camp. In those two hours, Tarrant had been moving in a daze. It still hadn't quite sunk in yet; despite how many times he told himself the facts, he wasn't quite sure he believed it. He was the Laird of the Hightopps. He had a clan again, and he was their leader, as his Da had been so many years ago. He even had an heir in Dafydd; the closest thing he would ever have to a child, now that Regina was… He flinched, shying away from that Most Painful Thought. No, he didn't want to think about his daughter right now; far better to focus on the fact that he had a clan again, that the Hightopps had been reborn. And, as a bonus, he had a son now. He'd always wanted a son…<p>

After a moment's thought, Tarrant had decided to bring the clan directly to Iplam. He would give Niall and his forces one chance to stand down, to join their clansmen under his protection. If they refused… Tarrant's lips thinned as he clenched his jaw. He didn't relish the thought of ordering the deaths of dissenters. As the King of Clubs he had never ordered an execution; as the Leader of the Resistance he had fought against a murder-mad Queen. But he would not have a war within his clan.

He knew this fear was on the minds of his people; he could see it in their faces, though they tried to hide it within their joy at returning home. He stared at their faces, his new family members. Could he do it? Could he look at his Alice again, knowing that his very first act as Laird had been to order the deaths of other women's sons, their fathers, their husbands? Could he rip his clan apart like this, so soon after they'd been reunited?

His gaze fell on Dafydd. Regina's young captain had been remarkably quiet since the meeting with the Council; his eyes downcast, his mood so somber it was stifling. Perhaps no one would be more affected by Tarrant's decision than Dafydd. Dafydd's family had killed Tarrant's daughter, but was that justification for killing Dafydd's brother? Could he destroy Dafydd's family, even after what they had done to Tarrant?

He walked over to the younger man, who was sitting uncharacteristically still. Usually, Dafydd was always doing something; training with his men, polishing his claymore, propping up walls while he watched Regina with a gaze that was only one part professional to three parts passionate [oh yes, Tarrant had noticed the way Dafydd had watched his daughter; he was Mad, not blind]. But now he simply sat on the back of a wagon that had been piled high with his family's belongings, staring out into space with a lost look on his face. Cautiously, Tarrant stood beside the young man, glancing up at him with his good eye [the bad one having by now long since swelled shut].

"A terrible hin', tae be divided in yer min'," he commented. "Tae be torn atween fealty an' fowk is a curse Ah wouldn't wish on anyain."

Dafydd glanced down at Tarrant, but didn't say anything. Tarrant looked away from Dafydd, in the direction of the Border Mountains.

"Ance upon a time, thaur was a cheil," he burred, his voice soft and far away. "A huir uv a young, a bampot cheil, fool thought his loyalties coods ne'er be divided. He thought he coods offer his services tae th' Queen he believed in, while still giving th' utmost loyalty tae his fowk." He shook his head, his gaze falling to his hands. "But nae cheil can serve tois masters. Th' time cam' fur th' cheil tae choose atween his tois loyalties, tae decide which was th' mair important."  
>Dafydd looked at Tarrant, his gaze solemn. "What did he do?"<p>

_Streaks of purple fire, striking like lightning… Hot, heavy flames nearly obliterated by plumes of smoke… Terrified screams and shrieks of agony… Staring, horrified, feet frozen to the earth…_

_A horse's terrified scream… a startled cry… a flash in his peripheral vision, white skirts and winking diamonds…_

_He turned without thinking, turning his back on the horrors, whipping around. So white… so pure… The smoke and flame were sure to sully her blinding, brilliant, blanched beauty… He had to save the purity of that white… He couldn't let that __**thing**__ destroy everything and he might not be able to save everything but he could at least save this…_

_He grabbed the reins of the horse and ran, stumbling through the devastation to preserve just one bit of beauty._

"He chose," Tarrant said dully. "He sacrificed a body loyalty tae save th' other."

Dafydd swallowed hard, watching the Hatter. He knew the story, of course; one couldn't live in Wonderland long without hearing the tales of the Hatter. How he had heroically saved the White Queen from the Red Queen's assassination attempt, rescuing her from the murderous Jabberwocky. How he lost his entire clan in that attack. He'd never thought of the pain that choice must have caused Tarrant, but now that he found himself in a similar situation, the burden of that choice was utterly, horrifyingly clear to him.

Could he do it? Could he sacrifice his family to save Regina's homeland? Could he face the same choice Tarrant had made, shoulder that same burden?

"Ah woods ne'er wish 'at burden on anyone," the Hatter finally said, looking up at Dafydd. "If thaur is tae be a battle when we get tae Iplam- an' Ah canne imagine thaur won't be- Ah order ye tae stain doon."

Dafydd swallowed hard, slowly meeting Tarrant's gaze. He appreciated the gravity of what Tarrant was doing, in trying to protect him from having to make the choice. But Dafydd had already chosen his master; the Hatter's burden was already his own.

"I promised to protect her," he said, his voice choked. "Just because she's died, that doesn't mean I'm free of my promise. She's the Music now. The wind in the trees, the sun on the Flowers. I'll protect her against anyone who threatens her, just like I promised."

Tarrant nodded silently. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised by Dafydd's declaration. Kingsleigh women were very good at inspiring loyalty in those around them; a loyalty that transcended time, fear, even death. No, Tarrant wasn't surprised. But he prayed, oh how he prayed that this could be resolved without having to make Dafydd face the consequences of his decision.

Finally, the camp was disassembled, and the clan began their journey home. With every footfall and with every foot that inched them closer to Underland, Tarrant's anxiety crept up just a little more. What was about to happen? How would the confrontation with Niall go? Could they end this dispute without bloodshed?

When he had crossed the Border Mountains- was it really only two days ago? - with Dafydd and Alice, he had been painfully aware of every passing second. Time had taunted him, dancing circles around him while he struggled through the restraints of the banishing spell. This return trip was no less urgent; there was no less at stake on this journey. But this time, Time behaved himself; even seemed to be anxious to help them along. They should have spent hours struggling through the mountain pass, yet when they emerged on the Underlandian side of the mountains; it was clearly only early afternoon. Tarrant felt he could kill Time, the slurvish urpal scrum; how was it possible that Time found this trip to stop the marauding Nazari so much more important than the last trip, to rescue Regina? If that was Time's game, Tarrant really was going to kill him.

Once they had cleared the Border Mountains, Tarrant set a hard course for Iplam. If Niall and his men hadn't gotten there yet, the clan could take up residence on the Brae and in the remains of the village. If the Nazari fighters were there… well, then things would be awkward.

"Ah wish we hud th' time tae send ye ahead, mah laddie," Tarrant muttered to Dafydd, who rode beside him. "Hae ye rendezvous wi' th' Deuces an' gie th' lay ay th' lain. We'll hae tae march in blin', thocht, Ah canne risk losin' onie mair time."  
>"I know," Dafydd nodded. "We should bring the Council."<br>Tarrant frowned. "Th' Council? Whit guid can they dae?"  
>"They have the power of Words," Dafydd said slowly, furrowing his brow. "Maybe they can find the Words to stop Niall and his men."<p>

For the first time in days, Tarrant felt a fragile, tender shoot of Hope unfurl in his chest. Words held Power; none knew that so well as he. If the Council could stop this Madness…

Quickly, Tarrant tugged the reins, pulling Windmare to a halt. He stood in the saddle, twisting around to look at his people.

"Rest haur a while," he ordered. "Water th' horses, hae a bite tae eat. Dafydd, th' Council an Ah will gang ahead. Ah tryst, you'll eat yer supper oan th' Brae tonecht."

There were mistrustful faces; clearly not everyone trusted that this reconciliation was real. Tarrant couldn't say he blamed them; he could still hardly believe it himself. Still, he hoped to eventually win them over. And surely it would help if he managed to end the dispute with Niall without bloodshed.

While the clan began to set up a temporary camp, Tarrant directed Dafydd to round up the Elders and procure a comfortable wagon for them. As soon as they had been seated, Tarrant and Dafydd clambered into the front seat of the wagon. Dafydd took the reins, and they quickly left the clan behind, taking off for Iplam as quickly as the wagon could manage.

Tarrant left the driving to Dafydd, instead focusing all of his attention on the horizon, as though he could draw Iplam closer by sheer force of will. The farmlands and plains of rural Witzend passed by unheeded; instead he scoured the horizon, searching for the faintest hint of forest. He sighed when, some amount of time later [he really wasn't keeping track], the dark blur in the distance coalesced into trees. Finally…

He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him, nor the thrill that thrummed deep inside himself, as the echoes of the Song wrapped around him. The Music crooned to him, welcoming him home, mourning with him that Regina had been taken. He heard Dafydd's sharp intake of breath, and opened his eyes to glance at his young heir. Dafydd's face was white, his sapphire eyes suspiciously shiny and filled with pain. He watched as Dafydd's face crumpled, his eyes falling shut as he heard the Music for the first time. Quietly, he took the reins from Dafydd's numb fingers, urging the horses on and allowing Dafydd to lose himself to the Song.

"She… she sang it for me," Dafydd whispered, barely able to speak around the lump in his throat. "But I never imagined it sounded like… this."

Tarrant nodded silently, unsurprised. He'd felt the Song stirring that evening, when Regina and Dafydd were alone on the Hill. He'd told her not to wake the Music up, but she simply hadn't been able to help it; the Song responded to her without her even thinking about it. He wasn't at all surprised that she had wanted to share the Music with Dafydd.

He could have spent hours just sitting and listening to the Music, sharing the Song's misery that its little mistress was gone. But alas, that would have to wait.

They heard the battle long before they came to it. Tarrant frowned in confusion; how had the Clubs known to get here? The fight was in full swing; weapons clashing, men yelling and groaning and dying. Tarrant's breath caught in his throat; Fates, they were too late… He reined in the horses, he and Dafydd both leaping to their feet and scanning the battlefield.

"Where's Niall?" Tarrant growled, bristling.  
>"There," Dafydd said, pointing to the top of the Hill. "He's…"<p>

He trailed off, paling drastically as his eyes widened. Then, without a word, he leapt off the wagon, crying Regina's name as he drew his claymore. Tarrant's frown deepened as he watched Dafydd run. He hadn't called Regina's name as a battle cry; it had been a desperate, terrified scream. As though he were actually calling to her, as if she could hear and answer him… Had the boy gone Mad?

Before he could follow Dafydd, his attention was distracted by his passengers. The six Elders struggled to their feet, using canes and staffs to balance themselves in the wagon. They had arranged themselves in a V, with Rhonwen as the point woman. As one, they lifted their staffs; as one they banged them once against the floor of the wagon.

"ENOUGH," they all bellowed, six voices blending into one. "LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS."

The Words flew from the Elders on a wave of Power. Tarrant could practically _see_ the magic flowing from them, felt the power of their words affecting the clan. The Nazari fighters were hit hard, and froze in place, dropping their weapons no matter where they stood or who they had been fighting a moment before. The Clubs ceased fighting in turn, keeping their weapons drawn on their foes.

Only one figure continued to move through the field. Dafydd pushed through the battle, dodging his frozen kinsmen and the Clubs as he sprinted towards his brother. He groaned as the Power fought him, demanding his obedience, but though his claymore fell from his hand he grimly pushed on, forcing his legs to move. He resisted the hold of the Elders' Order, fighting with all his strength to reach Niall, and more importantly, the wee slip of an armor-clad, ginger-curled girl whose sword was locked in combat with his.

This couldn't be possible. He'd gone Mad, or he was dreaming. Regina was dead. Regina could not be standing on the Brae, dressed in her Champion's armor, wielding the legendary Aliblay, her mother's sword. He was dreaming, hallucinating… and he was going to protect that hallucination if it was the last thing he did.

The wave of Power followed him, trailing his every tortured step. He struggled up the hill, panting and sweating, his fingers scrabbling in the dirt as he dug his toes in to keep from falling. He kept his eyes on Regina, not daring to blink for fear the dream would vanish.

Just as he reached the top of the hill, the wave of Power hit Niall, and his sword went flying out of his hand. He sprinted forward, knocking Niall away and sending him reeling, a moment before he crashed into Regina. They fell in a tumble, and Dafydd twisted them so he landed on the ground and cushioned her fall. He groaned as she landed on him; with that armor of hers, she'd probably just cracked several of his ribs. But it didn't matter, because he was touching her, smelling the familiar scents of honeysuckle and sandalwood beneath the dirt and sweat and blood, and she wasn't disappearing.

Not a dream, then. He might still be Mad, but it didn't matter, because in his Madness, she was alive.

She scrambled off of him, breathing heavily, her eyes snapping hazel with fury and Madness. He didn't give her any time to react; he had to test his Madness. He had to see just how far down the rabbit hole he'd gone. Without a moment's hesitation, he tangled one hand in her hair, crashing his lips on hers.

Time slowed to a standstill. The world fell away; the chaos of the Hill fell to a hushed silence. Even the Music ceased. There was nothing in the world except her, except him, except this.

He groaned, pulling her closer and drinking her in. He couldn't be Mad; he couldn't imagine something like this. He couldn't dream up her warmth, the feel of her soft lips, her frantic heartbeat, the way she melted into his arms, as though she were trying to meld them into one person. This was Real, he thought, giddy; she was Real. She was alive. He lost himself to the reality of her, to her breathtaking Aliveness.

"You traitor!"

The scream buzzed insistently in his ears, shaking him from the timeless moment and forcing him to tear his lips from hers. He blinked, disoriented, as all his senses returned to him at once. The Song. The Brae. The battle. Oh Fates, the battle! Danger, not safe, must keep Regina safe…

Someone was charging towards them, screaming. The instant he saw the glint of a sword, Dafydd reacted, the war drums in his head pounding, the battle lust dancing in his veins. He rushed forwards, dipping and getting his shoulder low, easily hefting the man over and flipping him onto his back. Without pausing, Dafydd grabbed the man's sword and plunged it into his stomach, pinning him to the ground.

The man drew a gasping, rattling breath. That horrible sound broke through the haze of Dafydd's Madness, stunning him to the core. He stared at the man he had killed, and then fell to his knees, a look of horror on his face as he stared at his brother.

Niall stared at him, an accusatory glare on his face as he struggled for breath. Dafydd stared helplessly at the sword plunged through his brother's body. Knew he couldn't remove it; his aim had been too true. To remove the sword would kill Niall instantly. He looked into his brother's eyes, stricken, trying to form an apology. Apology? How could he apologize for this? What words could be enough?

Niall grabbed Dafydd's tunic, using his failing strength to pull his baby brother close. He glared into Dafydd's eyes as a trickle of blood fell from his mouth.

"You… you protect them," he gasped, choking on the blood. "Protect our family."  
>"I will," Dafydd whispered hoarsely, clutching Niall's hand. "I swear it. Niall…"<p>

The words died on his lips as Niall gasped one more time, and then fell back, eyes wide and unseeing.

There was silence on the Hill; shock and devastation hung heavy in the air. Dafydd lurched to his feet, unable to rip his eyes away from his brother's body. He stumbled back, one, two steps, then turned around and ran.

"Dafydd!" Regina gasped from bruised, swollen lips, lurching after him, but a strong pair of arms restrained her. "Let me go!" she cried, staring after Dafydd.  
>"Wait, Mistress," a voice that sounded like Lily's whispered in her ear.<p>

She jerked out of her captor's arms, whipping around and staring at the Not Quite Lily. What in the world was going on? What was this creature who looked like Lily, but with cat-like pupils…?

"Witzend?" she asked blankly.

Oh Fates, she was confused. But she didn't have time to focus on it. Shaking her head, she turned and started running. Dafydd. Where was Dafydd? She had to get to him…

The arms were around her again, holding her firm. Regina screamed and fought like a Mad thing, but nothing she did made the Not-Lily's arms budge a bit. Finally she sagged in Witzend's arms, crying weakly.

"I have to go," she babbled. "I have to help him…"  
>"You will," Witzend purred as she dropped her disguise, rubbing her face in Regina's neck while the Cheshire mist twined around Regina's body, holding her still. "But all things in Time."<p>

Regina glared at her Cat, but there was nothing she could do to escape the Cheshire's hold. So she stayed still, watching as Tarrant approached the Hill. They stared at each other in shock, each amazed at what they found. Regina Alive… Tarrant Aged… Could all of this really have happened over only two days?

Tarrant reached forward with a trembling hand and touched Regina's cheek, stroking it gently before one clever finger twined around a loose curl and gently tugged it. A tremulous, disbelieving smile broke over Tarrant's face, and Regina brokenly smiled back as Witzend released her. She watched, fascinated, as Tarrant's limp, white hair regained a hint of color, as the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth began to ever so slightly smooth themselves away.

"Who is the Dreamer, and who is the Dream?" he asked softly, his eyes wavering between topaz and green.  
>Regina shook her head. "Dreams are never as they seem," she replied.<br>"Rhymes, Sugar Cube," Tarrant commented, a moment before enfolding her in a hug. "You must tell me how you escaped later," he murmured.  
>"Hopefully over a cup of tea," Regina replied, breathing in the comforting scents of tea and fabric.<br>"Of course, my princess," Tarrant whispered, pressing a kiss to her head before gently stepping away. "Back in a tick."

Regina watched, bewildered, as Tarrant walked past her to stand on the very apex of the Hill. She twisted her head to glance at Witzend as the Cat wound herself around her mistress again, who merely smiled at her. Was this the reason why Witzend had prevented Regina from immediately running after Dafydd? Tarrant looked down at Niall's body, an unreadable expression on his face, before looking back up, his gaze sweeping over the battlefield.

"That's enough," he said, his voice pitched to carry to every last person. "I'll not have my clan ripping itself into shreds on the same day that we've put ourselves back together again."

He paused a moment, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing.

"Listen. Do you hear the Music?"

He glanced around at the captivated Nazari, watching as their faces twisted into expressions of awe and wonder. Regina watched them as they were introduced to the Music, unable to hold back a little smile as she felt the Music preen and dance with all the attention it was suddenly being given.

"The Music of our ancestors," Tarrant continued, his gaze unfocusing as he concentrated on the Song himself. "_Our_ ancestors. We were one clan, once. We could be again."

Regina stared at her da, breathless. What was he saying? Was he going to accept the Nazari as his clan? Oh, wouldn't Dafydd love that! He had so longed to hear the Music of his… their… ancestors. Regina bit her lip, wincing and releasing it quickly when it stung, her eyes raking the forest. Where had Dafydd run off to? He should be here to hear this…

"Cease your fighting. Lay down your weapons," Tarrant said persuasively. "We don't need to fight over our land. It's already yours. You're home. I offer sanctuary and clanhood to all of you who lay down your weapons and swear fealty to me. Rejoin the Hightopps, return to Tearmunn. Only lay down your weapons."  
>"M'Lord, what can you mean?" General Koda boomed, frowning. "These miscreants invaded us! As King, you cannot-"<br>"I'm not speaking as King, General," Tarrant interrupted him, narrowing his eyes. "I'm speaking as the Laird of the Hightopps. These are my people. This is our land. Now, as your King, I order you to stand down."  
>"Your Majesty, I really don't think-"<br>"Are you disobeying an order, General?"

A murmur of excitement and surprise rippled through the crowd. Regina stared in surprise to see Alice walking out of the High House, leaning heavily on her cane and supported by Isabeau, the Royal Healer who'd been with Alice and Tarrant for thirty years. When had Alice come to Iplam, Regina wondered confusedly. Hadn't she been busy with her trade negotiations or whatever it was this time?

General Koda snapped to attention. "No, your Majesty. Of course not."  
>"Then I don't see a problem here requiring your attention, General," Alice said briskly, raising one delicate eyebrow. "Thank you for your assistance, but you may round up your men and return to Berserka. My daughter wouldn't thank you for mucking up the Hill on her birthday."<p>

Regina blinked, surprised. Her birthday? Was today her birthday? Had Alice come to the Brae to celebrate after all?

She wanted to walk forward and ask Alice about it, but in the next instant she realized that Witzend had released her. Instead of being wrapped around her mistress, Witzend sat at her feet, giving herself a thorough cleaning. Taking that as the Cat's permission to finally take off after Dafydd, Regina spun around and ran into the woods, hoping she could find him quickly.

The woods were unnaturally silent, which Regina counted as a blessing; it meant that the thrashing and stirs of movement she heard up ahead likely weren't just the breeze or a passing animal. Although dear goodness, did he ever sound like a marauding bear… She should have stopped to take off her armor; she thought absently, her breath coming in short gasps. But never mind. There was time for that later. For now… for now, she needed to find Dafydd.

Of course she came upon him so suddenly she nearly knocked them both over again. He had found a small glen in the forest, with barely enough room for him to pace agitatedly. He whipped around as she broke through into the clearing, staring at her as though she were a ghost. Self-consciously, she batted away an errant curl; she must look a fright. She was injured in multiple places and dirty and she'd been running and fighting and sweating and getting covered in dust and she'd been nowhere near a bathtub in days… Yes, she must look terrible.

He didn't seem to notice. He stared at her, not even blinking, his keen gaze taking in every last smudge of dirt and blood before his eyes darted back up to hers and oh Fates, she felt like she'd been trapped in his eyes, like the gaze was a physical chain bonding them and he could use it to pull her into himself and never, _ever_ let her go again. She could disappear into him, and she wouldn't even care…

He shook his head slowly, breathing heavily. "You're alive," he whispered.

She nodded silently, not sure what to say. Yes, she was alive. At the cost of his cousin's life, she remembered with a sinking heart. How did she tell him that? How could she explain-?

"Niall told us you were dead," he choked, haltingly walking towards her. "I thought-"  
>She shook her head, swallowing hard around the lump in her throat. "I'm alive," she whispered.<p>

She tilted her head back as he loomed over her, shivering in the intensity of his gaze. Something was wrong, she dimly realized with a growing sense of panic. He wasn't himself. Well, of course he wasn't himself; he'd just gone through all the stress and pain of trying to find her, then believing her dead, then confronting his family, then returning to Underland with his clan, and finally killing his brother. How could he be alright? But this wasn't just stress, and it wasn't only pain. There was something in his eyes; or perhaps there was something missing. Yes, something was missing; some veil, some shield that he had always kept up had now dropped. His gaze burned her, and with a start she realized what she was seeing blazing in his eyes.

"You're Mad," she whispered, shivering in unease.  
>A dark, ugly smile crossed his face fleetingly. "I must be," he nodded. "That's the only way any of this could have happened."<p>

Before she could respond, his hand had slid behind her neck, and his lips were on hers again.

She whimpered, clinging to his tunic as her knees buckled. His arms tightened around her as he coaxed her mouth open, keeping her upright as his tongue teased hers. Was this Madness, she wondered dimly? She felt as though she'd been sucked into the center of a tornado, thrust into the midst of a raging inferno, plunged into a turbulent sea. Dafydd was the focal point of the Madness, and yet he was her only anchor in the storm. Was he driving her Mad, or was he saving her from the Madness that had consumed her? Was she fueling his Madness, or easing it?

Abruptly, he pulled away from her, pushing her into a nearby tree. She gasped as the little air she'd managed to retain was forced out of her lungs, and shakily brought her fingers to her tingling lips. This certainly wasn't how she'd pictured receiving her first kiss. Well, her second, she supposed, the first had been out on the battlefield and it hadn't been any better than this one. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not with her dirty and bloodied, injured and encased in armor; not at the hands of an exhausted, Mad Champion. And yet… wasn't this exactly how it was supposed to feel? The butterflies, the racing heart, the breathlessness? He couldn't kiss her like that and not mean it, even if he was Betrothed. She couldn't kiss him like that and not mean it… oh heavens, what exactly did it mean? Did she truly feel for him what she thought she did? Was the label flitting around her thoughts the proper one to use? Did she… could she possibly… and could _he_ maybe, possibly feel the same way about her?

"Dafydd?" she asked, her voice rather shakier than she would have liked.

He glared at her, and she shuddered, pressing back against the tree. Alright, perhaps he meant everything that had passed between them in that kiss. But did she want him to mean it, in his current state? Did she want to be the focus of his Madness, when he looked so… so… _furious_?

"You've driven me Mad, Regina," he accused her, looking at her in disgust before he started pacing again, one agitated hand raking over his shorn head. "I was fine, before you. I was respected, I was powerful, I was at peace. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it?" he spat at her, throwing a frightening glare her way. "You had to tear me apart, didn't you? Take me apart and remake me, and put yourself in the center of it all."

Her eyes widened, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips. What was he saying? What did he mean that she was at the center of him? Was he saying…? Did that mean…?

"My loyalties were never divided, before you," he continued, kicking at a boulder. "And now look at me. I killed my own brother for you. I'm no better than a worthless Hightopp now. They stood by and let their own kinsmen be exiled. They betrayed their own blood. And now I've done the same. I've betrayed my family, and for what? For what?" he bellowed, punching a tree.

Regina sagged against the tree, her vision blurring as hot tears stung her eyes. Was it possible to survive a breaking heart? Because Dafydd had surely destroyed hers; she felt the sharp pieces piercing her chest, felt the blood draining from the damaged, mangled remains. She'd known that Dafydd was a soldier, but she'd never known he was a torturer. She'd never guessed that he could twist his knife into her heart this deeply.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she whispered.

She wasn't sure if he'd heard her, didn't know if he was even listening to her. Shuddering, she forced herself to stand on her feet, blinking back her tears and raising her voice to be sure he heard her, though she addressed his turned back.

"I never meant to make you choose between me and your family," she continued, crushing her heart into even tinier pieces with every word. "If this is really how you feel, then I release you from my service. Since you hold me responsible for your brother's death, at least in part, then allow me to make restitution. I grant you the land and title of the Duke of Annwyn."

She bit her lip. She and Leferidae had had several discussions about that particular title. Leferidae had explained to her that, as her Champion, Dafydd needed to have a noble title that would allow him to reside in Court. Apart from Leferidae's own title of Tenniel, the Duke of Annwyn was the highest-ranking member of the Court, and therefore a suitable title to bestow upon the Queen's Champion. She had meant to grant Dafydd the title anyways, after her Queenmaking… She hated that she was giving it to him under these circumstances.

"I'm… I'm sorry it's a Crimsian title, but that's all I have the power to offer you," she said apologetically. "The land will give you the resources to care for your mother and your brother's family. I…"

The words clogged in her throat, choking her. There was so much she wanted to tell him; there was nothing more she could say. She stared at his back for a long moment, willing him to turn around, begging him to look at her the way he used to. To really _see_ her, the way he had only two days ago, when they had danced on the Hill. Had he really come to hate her in only two days? Or had this hatred and fury always been there, simmering just under the surface? Had anything they'd shared been real? Behind all those glances, behind every protective touch and every whisper in the dark, had he hated her all this time? Had she built up a fantasy in her mind, imagined that he… that they could…

Choking on a sob, Regina turned and fled.

How she managed to make it through the forest without tripping and breaking her neck, she had no idea, because the tears were falling thick and fast, heartbroken sobs rattling her frame. Even when the stitch in her side left her gasping for breath and she felt the long cut on her side open yet again, she didn't stop; she couldn't stop. She had to get away from him, as far away as she possibly could…

"Regina!"

She crashed into Alice, and without thinking threw her arms around her mother, sobbing bitterly onto her shoulder. And then… oh blessed Underland, she felt Alice's warmth even through her armor. Alice was holding her safe and warm; Alice wouldn't let her fall apart. Her mother held her close to her heart, safe from the horrible, hurtful hatred of Dafydd's glare and evil words.

Alice clucked fretfully, awkwardly stroking her daughter's unruly hair with one gnarled hand as she struggled to keep them both upright. Oh, she could use a third hand now, she couldn't keep hold of her cane… quickly, and she dropped the cane, focusing instead on comforting Regina. She hardly had the attention to realize that her daughter was alive; far more important and alarming was the fact that her child was crying, sobbing as though her heart was broken.

"Regina, what's wrong? What's happened?" Alice asked breathlessly, eyes darting around in panic as she searched for whatever- or whoever- had done this to her daughter.  
>"Oh Mathair, he <em>hates<em> me!" Regina wailed, barely able to speak through her tears. "He hates me, and I love him... Oh Fates, Mama, I _love_ him…"

Alice blinked, bewildered. What in the blazes was Regina going on about? Oh dear, perhaps she had gone Mad… She glanced around helplessly; she was terribly afraid that if someone didn't assist her soon, she was going to fall over, and she could hardly continue comforting Regina if they were both sprawled out on the ground.

She sighed in relief as Tarrant approached them cautiously. He didn't waste time asking what was wrong; he simply leaned down and gathered their daughter up in his arms as though she weighed no more than a feather, pressing a kiss to Regina's forehead. Alice sighed in relief as he relieved her of the burden, absolutely overwhelmingly grateful that whatever their personal problems, he was still her Champion, saving her whenever she needed it.

"No…" Regina whimpered in Tarrant's arms. "Mama…"

Despite her alarm and fear for whatever had sent Regina into this wild grief, Alice couldn't stop her heart from singing. _Mathair. Mama_. Regina never asked for Alice's help; she rarely even called her Mathair. But she wanted Alice now.

"I'm here, darling," Alice said, blinking back tears and reaching forward to take Regina's trembling hand. "Mathair's right here."  
>"Don't go," Regina whimpered, sniffing.<br>"Of course I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart," Alice cooed, struggling to match Tarrant's stride as he started off for the High House. "Mama and Da are both here; everything's going to be alright."

Regina whimpered again, breaking out into a fresh wave of tears. Alice cooed to her, nonsense words and soothing sounds as she'd done when Regina had night terrors as an infant. Silently prodding Tarrant, she nodded towards the lounging room where she'd placed her armor days ago when this misadventure began. Tarrant nodded silently and led the way inside, holding Regina close as Alice sank onto the oversized, sinfully soft pillows. Then he gently set Regina down, frowning in empathetic misery as Regina tried to curl into a little ball, only to be hindered by her armor.

They worked together on that, unbuckling and unstrapping the heavy, restrictive metal pieces. With every piece that came off, they clucked and gasped; there didn't appear to be an inch of Regina's body that wasn't covered in bruises. Just what had she gone through on the battlefield? Alice cried out softly in alarm as the breastplate came off and they saw the blossoming of red on Regina's side, and Tarrant immediately flew for healing supplies while Alice feverishly pulled off the rest of Regina's armor. When Regina was finally free, she scrambled towards Alice, burying her head in Alice's lap as she cried.

Mostly, it was uncomfortable. Regina was a waif-like little thing, but she was still much larger than the infant Alice had once cradled, and she was flung haphazardly over Alice's lap. Alice's skirt was quickly becoming soaked with Regina's tears; the sky blue silk was sure to be ruined. And yet, like the first shoots of spring, some tendrils of maternal feeling were creeping up from the well where Alice had buried them. Some long-buried instinct was resurfacing, guiding Alice to stroke Regina's hair and back, to hum snatches of half-forgotten lullabies and make impossible promises that everything would be alright. And long after Regina had cried herself to sleep and Tarrant had returned to begin tending to her wounds, Alice kept her arms around Regina, hardly daring to let go for fear that she would never again have the chance to act like a mother to this long-lost daughter.


	10. Regret, Restoration and Reconciliation

**Author's Note**: Oh my good god. I literally added twenty pages of text to this chapter in the course of editing it. Twenty. The only scene that I didn't change was the last one. Everything else was either heavily edited or flat-out added months [no, seriously, _months_] after the original draft of this chapter was finished.

In many ways, I feel like I could have ended Book Two with this chapter; it ties up a lot of the story threads and sets things up really nicely for Book Three. However, there are two more chapters after this one, both somewhat epilogue-ish in tone, but still important.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Lily's gown [but obviously a little less color]: http:/ 26. media. tumblr. com/ tumblr_ lyy 9 gukErz 1 qatfdco 1_ 500. jpg  
>Regina's lounging dress [yes, it is stolen from one of Eowyn's gowns]: http: www. twinrosesdesigns. com/ eowyn_ inspired_ dream_ coat_ and_ gown. jpg  
>Regina's nightgown: http: mysterycreature. files. wordpress. com/ 2010/ 02/ nightgown. jpg? w= 460

**Original Character Face Claim**: The Doctor is portrayed by David Tennant. Noble is portrayed by Catherine Tate.

**Disclaimer**: Please see the end of this chapter for my disclaimers.

**Special Thanks**: A very special thank-you to Drachegirl14 for perfectly articulating the sentiment I've been trying to get across regarding Alice [but really, it's also very much an overarching theme of the entire series]: "It takes a breaking of the heart to repair a frozen-through one." That's exactly what I've been trying to convey through this entire book- sometimes, in order to fix something [or someone], you have to completely break it apart first. A million thanks for finding the perfect way to phrase that!

A million thanks to my brother Rob for helping me with Kalen and Lily's scene. He keeps protesting that he's not a writer, but he wrote Kalen's dialogue word for word. And I think it's beautiful.

Finally, many thanks to my wonderful beta Ranguvar27!

* * *

><p>It wasn't the homecoming Regina had been expecting.<p>

She had imagined a triumphant parade through the gates of the Cerulean Castle, smiling and waving to the members of the cheering Blue Court. She would have been relieved to be home, laughing and carefree upon her return. She had thought she'd be relieved to be rid of the Outlands, had imagined that her misadventure with the Nazari would be laughed away and quickly forgotten. Or, if not laughed away, at least it wouldn't have left much of an impression on her; just a small interruption in her week, more an inconvenience and an irritation than anything.

She hadn't thought it would be like this. She wasn't even returning to Berserka; she, her parents and Lily were riding to Marmoreal with all due haste while the new Hightopps set up a temporary camp around the Brae. The Blue Royals would be returning Lily to her mother, and Alice was hoping to procure some healing ointments for Regina's injured side. Regina hadn't imagined her homecoming like this; forcing herself to remain upright on Sora, knuckles white with pain as she grasped the reins, fighting nausea every moment. She hadn't counted on feeling like she was being crushed beneath the weight of her guilt, her grief, her disgust at everything that had happened and everything she had done.

She should be counting her blessings, focusing on the positives. There were certainly a lot of them. She was alive, when she had been sure she would die. Her family was safe. She and Alice- her mother- had reached a silent understanding, and might even be on the way to forging a true relationship. The Nazari had come under Tarrant's protection; the Hightopp clan had been resurrected. It was the happy ending Regina had been waiting for ever since she'd first landed in Underland.

And yet, Regina was horribly sad. She might even call the feelings in her heart betrayal. Where was Wonderland now, she wondered dully. Where was the fairy tale kingdom she had dreamt of her entire life, the perfect dream of charming madness with its whimsy and fancies? Where had it disappeared, and why had she been so rudely awakened from that dream to find herself in this stark, unforgiving, insane place? This was no wonderland. This was a nightmare.

She didn't even have the option of leaving. However tempting it might be to dream of leaving Underland, of choosing to return to dull, grey London with its logic and its rules, Regina knew she couldn't actually leave Underland. This place was half of her birthright, but more importantly, this was the heritage she had chosen. She had chosen to belong to Underland; she couldn't leave now, simply because her blinders had been ripped off and she had finally come face to face with the reality behind the naïve dream.

Sighing, Regina glanced around. Her parents rode ahead, and while she couldn't hear if they were speaking to each other, they seemed to be at peace. Lily was riding to her left. She didn't look much better than Regina felt, honestly. They hadn't talked yet, had yet to exchange any stories of their experiences in the Outlands. What toll had this misadventure taken on Lily? What had happened to make Lily look so pensive and unhappy? Granted, her unhappiness could be due to the fact that they were rapidly approaching Marmoreal. It didn't take a genius to realize that Lily had likely gone to the Outlands against her mother's orders. Mirana was a doting mother, but Lily was probably going to be in for the lecture of a lifetime.

Slowly, Regina's gaze drifted to the right; warily, as if she were probing a wound to determine the extent of the pain. Ah. Yes. It was still painful to glance over and see no one beside her.

She couldn't believe Dafydd was really gone. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say she didn't want to believe he was gone. She didn't want to believe that their relationship was over, that it could have ended so abruptly. She really didn't want to believe that he hated her. But the evidence was before her eyes; the simple fact that he wasn't riding to Marmoreal beside her was concrete proof. He wasn't here, and he would never be here again. He was gone. She was on her own.

She wondered where he was right now. Was he still raging through the Tulgey Wood, wandering among the trees while his Madness ate him alive? Had he returned to Iplam, to marvel in his new home? She hoped he was safe, wherever he was. She hoped that someone found him and eased him from his Madness. She closed her eyes as her heart lurched in pain again. He might hate her, but oh Fates, she didn't hate him, and she didn't want him hurt or lost or drowning in Madness.

_Please, take care of him_, she silently begged Underland.

It probably wasn't healthy, that she was still so focused on him when he had clearly renounced her. He wanted nothing to do with her; why did she still care about him? He seemed perfectly able to cast her off; why could she not rid herself of her feelings for him just as easily? Why could she not simply will herself out of love with him?

Love… when had that happened? When had her feelings for him turned to love? Fates, when had she even begun to have feelings for him? How could she have missed something that monumentally important? How could these feelings have taken root and grown so exponentially without her noticing it? How could she have been so blind?

Well, her blinders were off now, she thought ruefully; Dafydd had ripped them away quite effectively. She brought a hand up to her lips, gingerly touching them; they were still swollen and bruised, over twelve hours later. He had frightened her, with the Madness burning in his eyes and with the vicious, primal way he had kissed her. But it had been strangely thrilling, too; he had touched upon a hunger she hadn't even realized existed. He had been brutal, animalistic, almost possessive…

Why had he kissed her like that, if he hated her?

Admittedly, Regina didn't have much experience in the realm of physical affection. Well, it was more accurate to say she had _no_ experience, outside of today. But surely if Dafydd truly hated her, he couldn't have kissed her like… like… like she was the air he breathed. He couldn't force breath-stealing passion into a kiss if he didn't feel it, could he?

Actually, now that she really thought about it… what did it matter _how_ he kissed her? The simple fact was, he _had_ kissed her. Twice. Thoroughly. One didn't kiss one's enemy. Kissing, as far as Regina knew, was the exclusive territory of love. Therefore, if Dafydd had kissed her, then logically that had to mean that he… that he felt… Goodness, she could hardly think the words in the privacy of her own mind! He couldn't actually… love her? But what other conclusion could she draw from his behavior?

Then again, there was that story that had gone around the drawing rooms of the _ton_ last Season, of the daughter of a Lord who had believed a certain gentleman's declarations of love, and had allowed herself to be alone with him… Rumor had it she had been discreetly sent away when she was found to be in the family way. If it was possible that poor girl had been hoodwinked, could Regina be falling for the same charade?

Of course, she didn't see how it mattered now. Even if she'd been tricked into believing Dafydd, and even if she'd fallen in love with him, he was still gone. He had still rejected her. So either way, she was left on her own to deal with these baffling questions and this persistent ache in her heart.

Really, it was a relief when the traveling party reached the gates of the White Palace. Two blobs of white on the stairs resolved themselves into the figures of the White Queen and King. There was a large smile of relief and welcome on Mirana's face as she flitted down the stairs to greet them. Wearily, the Blue Royals and Lily dismounted, walking forward to greet the High Queen.

"Welcome home," she breathed, kissing both Alice and Regina on the foreheads. "Oh, welcome home. I was so worried for you."  
>"We're alright, Mira," Alice replied tiredly, finding a smile from somewhere.<p>

Unfortunately, at that exact moment Regina swayed, groaning piteously as she leaned against Sora's side, clutching at her injured left side and gritting her teeth in pain. Tarrant was by her side in an instant, gently urging her to transfer her weight onto him. He held her carefully as she gasped for breath, then helped her walk forward, his face tightening in helpless anger as Regina's face went white with pain.

"I'm sorry to cut our reunion short, Majesty," Tarrant said apologetically. "But we're in need of your help."  
>"Of course," Mirana said quickly, hands fluttering. "I'm so sorry, Tarrant, I didn't realize. Of course, bring Regina inside. I'll be right there."<p>

Tarrant nodded his thanks, quietly murmuring encouragement to Regina as he got her walking again. Kalen hurried after them, easily taking Regina's free arm over his shoulders and helping Tarrant steady her as they started up the stairs.

"Alice, if you'd like to have something to eat I can order tea brought to your rooms," Mirana offered.  
>"No thank you," Alice shook her head. "Not just now, I'd rather go with you to see after Regina."<br>"Of course," Mirana nodded, before sending a Look her daughter's way. "Lily, I'd like to see you in my study when I get back, please."

Lily concealed a wince, nodding silently. She stood back awkwardly, watching her family bustle off after Regina. Well… this was… unpleasant.

She wondered absently just how much trouble she might be in this time. She had probably worried her mother half to Death, disappearing as she had without a word. Lily stood by what she'd done; Regina had needed saving, and Lily didn't regret having tried. But she probably could have gone about it in a better way. A way, for example, that didn't give her mother a heart attack.

Knowing her mother would be occupied tending to Regina for a while, Lily made her way through the castle and to her own suite. She wished she had time for a full bath; she was filthy from days of dust and sweat in the Outlands, not to mention blood and sweat from the battle in Iplam. But she knew that if she wasn't in her mother's study by the time Mirana returned from the healers' wing, she would be in even deeper trouble. So instead of a bath, Lily contented herself with washing herself as well as she could with the basin of water in her bathroom. She called to her maid Dahlia to help her dress, trying to hide her displeased face at the voluminous skirts and restraining corset. She had gotten so used to her breeches over the last two days; to be trapped in a prison of panniers, petticoats and stomachers seemed like torture.

Lily stared at herself in the mirror when she was dressed. The clean, prim princess swathed in silk and lace… she hardly recognized herself. The past two days had been so terrifying, so infuriating, so full of emotional upheaval and desperate fights for her life, and yet none of that could be seen in this lovely, remote creature. She didn't know how to be this pristine, serene princess. Not when she knew that only moments ago she had been covered in blood and breeches, and it had felt like freedom. Could she go back to the polite world of Marmoreal, to the hushed murmurs and endless teas and sedate pace of walking, after she'd wielded a sword and strided along without skirts and rode hell for leather across two lands?

Troubled, Lily left her suite and began the journey across the palace into her mother's study. To her surprise, it wasn't Mirana who greeted her at the door, but Kalen. Lily looked up at her father, alarmed to see that there were new lines on his face, new threads of white in his black hair. Oh dear, had she done this to him?

"Come in, Lily," Kalen said, stepping back and ushering Lily inside.

Nervously fisting her hands in her skirts, Lily stepped into the study, trying not to flinch as Kalen shut the door behind her. Schooling her breath to calm, she walked through the study, frowning in curiosity at the pedestal that stood in the center of the room. Atop a plush pillow lay a green and blue sac, roughly the size of a chicken's egg. It lay basking in the glow of several candles. Now what in the world could that possibly be? What sort of experiment was her mother running? Kalen distracted Lily from her reverie however, motioning to the two couches on the far side of study. Swallowing hard, Lily sank onto one couch, staring blankly at the tea service that had been prepared.

"I'm glad to see you've made it home safely," Kalen began, seating himself opposite Lily.  
>"I… yes," Lily said, clearing her throat. "I did."<p>

A painfully awkward silence fell as Kalen poured the tea. Lily picked at the embroidery on her gown, hating the silence. Wasn't her father going to lecture her? He wasn't really one for yelling at his children, but even if he started telling her how disappointed in her he was, that was preferable to this silence.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, desperate to end the silence.  
>Kalen raised an eyebrow as he handed Lily her cup. "Do you know what you're apologizing for?"<p>

Lily bit her lip, stirring her tea. What was she apologizing for? Running away to rescue Regina? Not at all. Leaving her gown in a heap on the floor and taking off in breeches? Not for that, either. Really, there was only one part of the past few days that she regretted.

"For worrying you?" she tried, not sure why her voice lifted into a question at the end.  
>Kalen sighed deeply, and she could see the disappointment painting itself across her face. "No."<p>

Lily's face fell. He was rejecting her apology? Well… now what?

"Well…" she floundered."I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry for going after Gigi. I know Mother told me it wasn't my right to go, but I couldn't just sit here and do nothing!" she exclaimed in a rush.  
>Kalen raised his eyebrows at her over the rim of his teacup. "So instead you decided to put your mother and I in the same position that Alice and Tarrant were in, possibly worse."<br>"I… oh," Lily said blankly.  
>"They knew Regina was alive, and being held," Kalen elaborated, fixing Lily with an even gaze. "They knew and they were en route to save her. You disappeared, without a word or even a note. We didn't know if you were alive, dead, captured; we knew nothing. We didn't even have the option of looking into the Oraculum, because Absolem has Faded and the Oraculum was destroyed. There was no one en route to save you. We had no idea which way you went or to where. That is what you chose to do to your mother and me. That is why I'm upset, Lily."<p>

Another apology crawled up Lily's throat, but it died on her tongue. Apologize? What good were her words in the face of what she had done? And the worst of it was, it had all been for nothing. She had had an adventure, but she hadn't saved Regina. It appeared that Regina had saved herself from the Outlands, and then Dafydd had saved her from his brother. The entire adventure could have taken place without Lily, and come to the same conclusion. The only thing Lily had managed to do was inspire Alice to keep going, and honestly? She was Alice of Legend, Alice the Champion. She probably would have talked herself back around to continuing her quest, given enough time. What had Lily accomplished?

Lily's eyes blurred with tears as she bowed her head under the weight of her guilt. She'd put her parents through exactly what Alice and Tarrant had been through, and it had all been for nothing. She was a failure, which was bad enough, but she was also a disappointment. She couldn't bear to think that she had disappointed her parents.

She would be better, she silently swore. She would accept the fact that she wasn't an adventurer, wasn't a Champion. She was a Princess, and she would be a good one. She would learn to curb her impulsiveness, stifle her automatic response to rush into danger. She would learn how to rule, and how to obey.

The instant her shoulders began to shake from her sobs, Kalen was there, wrapping his arms around Lily and holding her close. Through her tears, the hammer of guilt beat over her head again as she realized her father's hands were shaking with the emotions he was holding back.

"We love you, Lily," he told her, kissing the top of her head. "If you're dead set on something, talk to us. Make us listen. I'd rather know about and not like you doing something than not know at all."

Lily nodded silently, throwing her arms around her father as she cried onto his shoulder. Consumed in her grief though she was, she instantly jerked up when she heard the study door open. Before Mirana had even finished shutting the door behind her, Lily was running to her, throwing her arms around her mother.

"Oh Mother, I'm so sorry," she managed to gasp out between her tears.  
>Mirana stroked Lily's short curls and back gently, as she had when Lily was a child. "Please don't do that to us again, Lily," she said softly.<br>"I promise," Lily sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut.  
>"You understand you must be punished," Mirana began.<p>

Lily nodded on her mother's shoulder, stifling a sigh. She hated being punished, like a child… Then again, she had behaved rather childishly. Maybe, for all her Aging, she still hadn't grown up.

Gently, Mirana withdrew from Lily, motioning for her to follow as Mirana floated over to the pedestal that had so puzzled Lily earlier. Sniffing, Lily rubbed her eyes free of tears as she followed her mother. She blinked down at the egg, wondering again what on earth it was.

"If you're so determined to be a Champion, then you will guard this," Mirana said, gently touching the egg. "You will keep it safe, and warm, until it hatches."  
>"I… yes, Mother," Lily said, subdued. "What is it?"<br>"It is an Egg," Mirana replied. "What may be inside the Egg, I cannot say. Regardless, it is your task to protect it. You will remain here, in the Study. You will take your meals here, do your studies here, and sleep here. You will be allowed to leave only to bathe and for your weapons training."

Lily's head jerked up in surprise. She had thought that her mother would immediately forbid Lily from ever touching a weapon again. But she was going to allow her to continue her training?

"Don't look so surprised," Kalen said mildly. "I taught you everything so that you could survive in any scenario. Of course, you seem to have forgotten the first rule of wilderness survival."  
>Lily licked her lips. "Leave tracks?"<br>Kalen's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Not quite. Always make sure someone knows where you're going, how you're getting there, and when you'll be back."  
>Lily nodded, her gaze falling to her hands. "I really am sorry."<br>"Well now," Mirana said, her fingers twitching. "We'll leave you here with the Egg. I'm sure your siblings will be popping by to hear all about your adventures."

Lily watched her parents withdraw from the study before turning to face the Egg. Well, all things considered, this wasn't so bad a punishment. Shrugging, she walked over to the bookshelf and chose a volume for herself, then sat down at her mother's desk to settle in and begin her task.

* * *

><p>Alice and Tarrant were both studies in anxiety as they watched Mirana labor over their injured daughter. Tarrant sat on the opposite side of the bed from Mirana. He held himself very still; his back ramrod straight, his jaw and fists clenched. Only the maelstrom of colors in his eyes revealed how very agitated he was, as he watched Mirana mixing her salves and hemming to herself. Alice, in contrast, was a study of motion. She was pacing back and forth across the chamber- surprisingly agilely, and without her cane- running a hand through her hair every once in a while. Unlike Tarrant, who was determinedly silent, Alice was muttering to herself- old riddles and nursery rhymes, it sounded like.<p>

Mirana left them to their separate agitations, focusing instead on Regina. She had been heavily sedated and was now sleeping deeply, and that was good, because the long cut along her side needed quite a lot of attention. Neither Tarrant nor Alice knew how Regina had gotten injured, but it was clear to Mirana that she had been carrying this wound for at least a day, probably more. She could see where the wound had tried to scab over, but it had been ripped open repeatedly, leaving the edges jagged and raw. The wound was clean, and Mirana could see the remains of healing ointments; Tarrant had told her that he had tried to tend the wound yesterday afternoon, after the battle at Iplam. The cut must have opened again on the ride from Witzend to Marmoreal, and that had Mirana worried; if the wound had been repeatedly opened, Regina must have lost quite a lot of blood.

She worked quickly, her delicate fingers nimbly smoothing a rather foul-smelling mix of herbs and tree saps over the wound. Satisfied, Mirana gently asked Tarrant to lift Regina's torso so that she could wrap a long length of bandage around Regina's ribcage. When she was finished, she stood with a satisfied nod.

"She's going to be alright," she announced, washing her hands. "You'll have to stay here a few days, I'm afraid. Regina can't be moved until that wound starts to heal. Any riding or jostling about will only make things worse, so she'll have to stay in bed."  
>"Thank you, Mirana," Alice said gratefully.<p>

Mirana smiled at her sister-queen, then gracefully withdrew, leaving the Blue Royals alone with each other. Tarrant sighed deeply, weakly leaning forward and taking one of Regina's hands in both of his and pressing a kiss to it, wearily closing his eyes. Alice sank into Mirana's vacated chair, leaning forward to gently stroke Regina's unruly curls.

It was surprisingly peaceful to sit like this, Alice noted with some surprise. The last time she and Tarrant had actually spoken to each other had been during that disastrous trip over the Border Mountains into the Outlands. In the ensuing few days they had been subject to so much torture, despair, and emotional upheaval and reversals that it seemed ludicrous to think that they were sitting in Marmoreal, alive and well with almost nothing to hint at what they'd been through.

It was still there though, the tension. Time had done his work and distanced them from the first pain of the horrible things they'd said to each other, but they'd also had time to sit with those words, to brood over them and live with them. They'd given Time enough leeway to make those accusations and taunts a part of their psychology, their memories.

She observed Tarrant while his attention was firmly riveted on their daughter. He had Aged, after they'd been told of Regina's death. With everything that had been happening at the time, Alice hadn't had much attention to spare to notice it, but it struck her keenly now. Tarrant's hair was almost completely white, and there were deep lines inscribed at his eyes and mouth. The Aging must have made his injuries painful, she thought absently. The bruises were beginning to dull from their florid blues and purples to a mottled, sickly yellowish green, but they must have ached abominably. Tarrant had been dutifully drinking pain relieving elixirs, but he had refused Mirana's offer of additional medical attention in deference to Regina.

His hair white, his movements slowed… her face lined, and her perennially aching joints… what a pair they made, she mused absently. What a pair of Mad, stubborn old fools.

Alice wouldn't stand for it. She'd miraculously been given a second chance with her daughter; she wasn't about to lose her husband again. So, though she'd always wrestled with her pride, she choked it back and forced herself to speak first.

"I'm sorry, Tarrant," she said quietly, so as not to wake Regina. "For the things I said, in the Mountains."  
>Tarrant glanced over at Alice, a thoughtful look on his face. "It doesn't matter, Alice."<br>"But it does," she argued. "I always seem to be hurting you, and I don't mean to."  
>"We seem to keep making the same mistakes over again," Tarrant sighed. "We tore each other apart after Regina was taken Above, too."<br>"We did," Alice said ruefully. "And we wasted eighteen years. I don't want to waste any more Time, Tarrant. The two of you are on bad enough terms already, without our adding to it," she added wryly.

Tarrant smiled deprecatingly in silent agreement. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs as he gently kneaded Regina's hand in his.

Alice bit her lip as she watched him. She had said all she could say; whether Tarrant agreed with her or not was out of her control. Oh, she loathed giving up her control, and he knew it. Still, if she had to give up control to anyone, best if it was him. If she trusted anyone in either world, it was Tarrant. And she would keep reminding herself of that.

"When I was out there, at the Tea Table," he began hesitantly, as though probing a wound he wasn't sure had entirely healed. "When I was sitting there, all alone…"

Alice bit back a flinch. They had never discussed those eighteen long years of separation. Alice had never heard what Tarrant had done with himself; she had never told him of her own struggles in the shadows of Marmoreal. They had always had a silent agreement that it was better to let sleeping dogs lie, and to leave the past behind them. Now that Tarrant was opening up, Alice wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear, to face what she had done to him. But she forced herself to keep silent, to bear witness to his suffering and to accept her share of the blame for what had been done.

"My greatest dream, my only wish, was to stitch us all back together again," he said softly. "To see us a family again. I nearly squandered that chance," he admitted, his face falling. "We've not been a model family this past six-month, have we?"  
>"No," Alice agreed softly. "No, we haven't."<br>"I would be a fool to let us slip through our fingers again," he said. "I'm sorry, Alice."

He reached a hesitant hand across the bed, holding his palm up in silent invitation. Alice smiled tremulously, blinking back tears as she reached her own shaking fingers forward to clasp his, reclaiming his hand and her place at his side.

The change happened gradually. Alice couldn't say for certain when the wrinkles around Tarrant's eyes smoothed away, when his hair regained its electric orange vitality. But the change was undeniably happening; he was de-Aging before her very eyes. And judging by the expression on Tarrant's face, and by the sudden easing of pain in her joints, the same thing must be happening to her. In a few moments more, Alice stared in awe at Tarrant, shocked to see him look so very young.

With a trembling hand, Tarrant reached out and gently stroked Alice's cheek, a gesture which brought tears to her eyes. She trapped his fingers with her own, holding his hand to her face and gently breathing in his scent.

"My Alice," he lisped, revealing the gap between his teeth as he smiled. "Don't cry."

Deciding that now was not the time to be timid with her own husband, Alice leaned forward and boldly kissed him. His eyes widened in surprise before drifting shut as he returned the kiss, and for a breathless moment they remained like that, before pulling apart, matching smiles on their faces.

"Hatter?" Alice asked softly, tilting her head. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

She was rewarded by the most beautiful beaming smile she'd seen cross Tarrant's face in a long time. He took her hand in his again, shaking his head.

"I haven't the slightest idea, my Teacup," he replied tremulously.

* * *

><p>He came to slowly, and as soon as he was conscious enough to realize he was awake, he found himself wishing he was still passed out. He felt like he had been stomped on by a bevy of Bandersnatches; his pulse pounded in his temples and every last muscle, bone, and hair hurt. Dafydd didn't try to move, or even open his eyes; doing so would take too much effort, and it would hurt too much. Instead, he tried to remember just what had happened to him.<p>

Judging by the amount of pain he was in, not to mention the way even his thoughts hurt, as though they'd been ripped apart and thrown into a whirlwind… he must have gone Mad. How had he lost control like that? He had been fighting his battle lust since the moment he discovered that Regina was missing, but when had his sanity slipped through his fingers? It all got hazy after Niall said Regina was dead…

He groaned, nearly silently. Regina was dead, wasn't she? He could have sworn he had seen her through the haze of the Madness, had felt her beneath his hands, tasted her… Though admittedly, that could easily have been just another hallucination or dream. Heaven knew he'd imagined what she tasted like a thousand times.

But what had happened in his Madness? He could only assume that he'd been in battle; the ache in his muscles could only have come from fighting. Who had he fought against? He was alive, so he must have won. Was his family safe? Were Tarrant and Alice alright? Where was his brother?

His brother…

Dafydd's eyes shot open, and he scrambled up from his belly-down sprawl into a seated position. That was as far as he could get before the pain in his head became blinding, and he held his head in his hands, groaning.

The memories were jumbled and faded, hazy and disjointed. He remembered Regina on top of the Brae, her sword locked with Niall's… Niall's accusing gaze… The flash of a sword… Madness, horror, terror, denial, grief… The warmth of her lips, the freezing coldness when she disappeared…

"You stupid moron!"

The sharp, furious voice cut through his ears and drove straight into his brain, making him see stars. The pain in his head was so terrible that he barely noticed the sting across his face as he was slapped, claws raking into his cheek. Weak as he was, the blow was enough to knock him onto his back, and he found himself staring in bemusement at the livid Cat perched on his chest, her ears flattened as she hissed and glared at him.

"How dare you," she seethed. "How dare you hurt my mistress like that!"  
>"Wha-?" he asked dumbly, but he was silenced by another well-aimed blow.<br>"You broke her heart, you great galumphing idiot!" she yelled at him, her voice rising into a howl that sent starbursts of pain through his head again. "I trusted you! I trusted you to take care of her, and look what you did! You broke her worse than the Outlands did!"

He stared at Witzend mutely, completely confused, but a trickle of dread was sliding its way down his spine. Broken her heart? What? What had happened, he asked himself again, the first tendrils of panic wrapping around him.

"Do you have any idea how much work I've put into her future?" Witzend yelled at him, her claws digging into his chest. "And can you even begin to comprehend how very close it all is to collapsing, simply because you're an idiot? I will not allow you to jeopardize my mistress' future simply because you are a worthless moron!" she yowled, smacking him again. "Now, you are going to Iplam, you are going to talk to Regina, and you are going to fix this, or so help me Absolem I will ensure that you never father your sons!"

With a final glare, Witzend disappeared in a haze of smoke. Gingerly, Dafydd sat up, fighting off a wave of nausea as he did so. What in the world had the Cat been talking about? What had he done to Regina? Oh Fates, he hadn't hurt her, had he? He paled as that possibility sank in. If he had attacked her in his Madness, he would never be able to forgive himself.

He looked around quickly, trying to get his bearings. He stood in a forest. Alright, he was somewhere in Underland, there were no trees like this in the Outlands. If his hazy memories were correct, he had to be in Iplam, close to the Brae. Yes, he was near the Brae; that low humming in his ears wasn't his own thoughts, that was the Music of the Hightopps. He stood there, transfixed by the beautiful Song, marveling that he could hear it. He could hear the Song… why could he hear the Song? This must be another change that had happened during his Madness…

He hissed in pain as he felt sharp teeth bite into his calf. He glared down at Witzend, who glared right back at him…

But then his attention was completely distracted by a tiny rock lying on the ground by her paw. Hardly daring to believe his eyes, he sank down, slowly picking the pebble up.

It was tiny, only about the size of his nail. It was a deep shade of lavender, an unusual color for a rock. But the most extraordinary thing about it was its shape. Time and erosion had weathered the rock into the shape of a heart. Fates above, it was a Heart-Rock. He had never seen one in Underland before… not; he added hastily to himself, that he'd been looking. Of course he wouldn't dare to presume that he had any right to find a Heart-Rock… But here it was, lying literally right at his feet. Was it a sign, he tentatively wondered, staring at the rock in awe. Could Tearmunn Herself possibly be telling him… giving Her permission for him to…?

"If you're done examining your rocks, would you mind getting a move on?" Witzend snapped.  
>"If you're so concerned, you could just transport me to her," Dafydd snapped back, rubbing his aching temples.<br>"I'm not giving you any more help than I have to," she retorted, glaring at him. "You think I like that her future is so tied up to yours? If you want that to continue, work for it."

So saying, Witzend disappeared again. Dafydd rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at the place where she'd been sitting. He and Witzend had never particularly gotten along; the Cat, when she was around, was far too protective of "her" human to take a shine to him.

No matter. Witzend was right, in any case; he needed to find Regina. He needed to figure out what was going on, what had happened since he slipped into Madness. And if he'd hurt her… Underland forbid, if he'd hit her… He was going to fall on his knees and beg until she forgave him.

* * *

><p>Regina lay on a chaise longue outside the High House, basking in the weak winter sunlight and watching her new clan bustle about. Tarrant was darting to and fro, planning out village streets and family plots willy-nilly. Madam Gwynyth, who had been pointed out to Regina by Tarrant as Dafydd's mother, was directing the men in choosing their home plots and organizing their belongings. Alice had reluctantly left Regina's side to return to Berserka; she was going to round up the Clubs and put them to work quickly building essential structures like grain silos and wells, to tide the Hightopps over as they built their houses and forges and such.<p>

As Regina lay and watched the activity, she shook her head in wonder. She couldn't believe that she suddenly had a clan. What had happened to bring this about? She had been so sure that there would be a war between the Outlanders and the Club army, but instead here they all were, one big family. Only the plots of earth on the newly christened Burial Mound stood testament to the battle that had been waged.

How Dafydd would love this… Regina flinched, shifting uneasily. Oh blast it, her thoughts kept drifting back to her erstwhile Champion every few moments. Her mind was torturing her with these constant thoughts of him, and she wished the thoughts would stop; no amount of wishful thinking was going to bring him back to her.

Or, it seemed, back in general. Regina had asked Ioan, the rest of her Deuces, and her athair, but no one had seen Dafydd since the battle five days ago. Once they had all realized that none of them had any idea where in Underland Dafydd was, Ioan had organized the Deuces into a search party. He had left two- Rhys and Owain- to guard over Regina. The other ten of them had taken off in a clockwork pattern, each taking an o'clock and riding off in hopes of finding Dafydd before, as Ioan put it, "He ends up getting himself killed, the galumphing idiot." Each had taken a spare horse with them, for Dafydd to ride in case they should be the one to find him. They had been gone for four days, but Dafydd had yet to be discovered.

She wondered where he was. Had he returned to the Outlands? Had he taken off for one of the other kingdoms? Fates forbid, was he laying dead somewhere? Oh, she couldn't live with that possibility, and she begged Underland to keep it from happening. It was much better to have Dafydd alive and hating her than for him to be dead.

"Are you alright, little sprig?"

Regina glanced up, only mildly surprised to see Rhonwen looking down at her. After leaving Marmoreal two days ago, Regina, Alice and Tarrant had immediately returned to Iplam, back to their clan. Tarrant had introduced Regina to the Council of Elders, stating that they had served as advisors to Niall in the Outlands and that he intended for them to act as a kind of court of law, settling the everyday disputes and day to day decisions for the Hightopps. Rhonwen had taken quite a shine to Regina, and had spent a good deal of the past two days regaling the princess with clan stories and legends. Rhonwen's company had certainly made the tedium of enforced bed rest easier to bear.

"I'm fine, Rhonwen," Regina said, trying to smile.  
>"You're lying," Rhonwen said bluntly, settling herself on a bench beside Regina. "You're worrying about Dafydd."<p>

Regina looked at Rhonwen, surprised; she had thought she'd hidden it better than that. The old woman, however, merely looked at Regina with a crafty, far-too-knowing gaze.

"It's understandable, mind," Rhonwen continued, leaning on her cane. "Dafydd's Madness has always been a fearsome thing to behold. But he's always come home, Regina." She fixed Regina with another of those uncomfortably knowledgeable gazes. "He always finds his way home."

Regina bit her lip and looked away, not sure she wanted to delve into the subtext of that statement. The thing that caught her gaze, however, was the very subject of her conversation with Rhonwen. Dafydd was riding through the town beside Ioan, his head ducked low to avoid everyone's gaze. Regina's breath caught in her throat as her heart stopped beating; he looked absolutely terrible. What had he been through for the past five days?

She sat up, but the pain in her side kept her from fully rising or walking forward. Instead, she was imprisoned on her chaise, silently watching Dafydd pass through the main thoroughfare of the makeshift village. He was garnering a lot of attention from the clan, and not all of it positive. Though many people were relieved and excited that their prince had returned home, there were accusatory glares and dark mutterings, as well. Regina bit her lip as she watched the clan's reaction to Dafydd; this was something she hadn't thought of. She had been so focused on how she would feel when Dafydd came back that she hadn't thought about how his people would feel. Niall was dead, and plenty of people on the battlefield had seen how it had happened. Granted, Regina was sure that details would be confused in the retellings; such was the nature of storytelling. But in one form or another, everyone in the clan knew that Dafydd had killed Niall with his own sword. How would Dafydd face his people?

"Well, I see you've found him, Ioan," Rhonwen stated, struggling to her feet. "It's good to know you're good for something after all."  
>"Oi! I'll have you know I'm very good at keeping track of him!" Ioan protested in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.<p>

Rhonwen raised a silent, eloquent eyebrow, under which Ioan crumpled slightly. Smirking in delight, Rhonwen turned her attention to Dafydd.

"You look terrible, boy," she stated. "Take Regina for a walk up the Brae, it'll do you both good."

So saying, Rhonwen hobbled off, barking at Ioan to fetch her shawl. Wincing, Ioan sidled off, but Regina scarcely had attention to spare for him; she was too absorbed with Dafydd.

For the first time since entering the village, Dafydd lifted his gaze, nervously seeking her eyes. She froze beneath his gaze, her heart hammering in her chest so hard she was sure he could see it. He appeared to be examining her, and whatever he was looking for, he relaxed after a moment, relief flooding his eyes. She had no idea what that meant. She wished he would say something; this pregnant silence was incredibly painful. Now that she was assured he was alive and relatively well, the pain of their separation had room to grow, and it took her breath away with its sheer power. Oh, she had missed him in the last few days. And now he stood right there before her… and it was going to hurt so much when he walked away again.

"You're alive," he said softly.  
>"I… yes," Regina said, her voice choked. "We already established that."<br>"I… oh," he said, frowning and coloring slightly. "We did?"  
>Regina's brows furrowed. "You don't remember?"<br>"Um… no," he confessed, his gaze dropping back to his hands. "Not really. I… never do, when I… lose control, like that."

She supposed that wasn't surprising. She herself had much the same problem; when the Haziness descended on her it was terribly difficult to keep track of details. But this, then, provided a different set of problems. If Dafydd didn't remember their last interaction, did that mean that everything that had been said- and done- was invalid? Did it count, if he had no memory of it? If he couldn't remember having rejected her, did that mean that it wasn't true? Or was she merely trying to take advantage of his lost memories in order to make things easier on herself?

"Could we… walk to the Brae?" he asked hesitantly, glancing around. "Somewhere… quieter?"

Regina bit her lip, tortured by the memories of Last Time. The last time they had been alone together, he had rendered her utterly breathless… and he had ripped her heart out of her chest, stomping it into the dirt. Was he seeking a repeat performance? Now that he was himself again and in his right mind, was he going to reject her again, just to satisfy himself since he didn't remember doing it the first time?

"I… yes, of course," she said hesitantly.

Drawing a deep breath to steel herself against the pain, she placed a hand on the armrest of her chaise and slowly sat up, hissing in pain as she did so. Dafydd frowned and moved forward to help her, but she shied away, standing of her own willpower. His hands fluttered ineffectually for a moment, before falling to his sides, and her heart gave another great lurch. Oh, this was terrible; to be so trapped between wanting to protect herself from him and needing him close was a special kind of torture.

"Are you alright?" he asked uncertainly.  
>"I'm fine," she answered quickly.<p>

Dafydd frowned; she certainly wasn't behaving as if she was alright. She was holding herself stiffly, carefully wrapping her arms around her torso. His gaze fell to her side as a memory floated through his brain.

"Your dress," he said suddenly, the information clicking. "It was torn, and bloody. You were cut, weren't you? On your side?"  
>Regina bit her lip, nodding slowly. "I'm fine," she repeated. "Aunt Mirana tended to it, and she says I'll be fine. Though… it will scar," she added wistfully, sighing. "No matter. No one will see it, so it's fine."<p>

Dafydd nodded slowly, his heart sinking. He knew that they were lucky, that a scar on her side was nothing compared to what _might_ have been done to her- what he thought _had_ been done. She was alive, and relatively unharmed; a wound on her side [which, as she had said, no one would see] shouldn't have distressed him. But the knowledge that his people had physically hurt her, that she would bear physical scars because of his failure to protect her, cut him deeply. His profound failure was only compounding the more he learned about this disastrous week.

Ioan had found him walking through the Tulgey Wood on his way back to the Brae. Bless him, Ioan had brought a horse for Dafydd, and they had ridden back together. While they were riding, Ioan had told him everything that had happened in the past few days- everything Dafydd had done to avoid war, how he had orchestrated the clan's return to Underland under Tarrant's protection. Then, he had slowly, reluctantly, told Dafydd of the battle in Iplam, of what Dafydd had done.

Even now, days later, his mind shied away from memories of the battle. He knew, intellectually, what he had done, but he couldn't fathom it. He couldn't quite believe it had happened. And there was so much else to deal with at the moment; he simply had no attention to spare for what had happened on top of the Brae. But after… that event… Dafydd had run off, away from everyone; Ioan had no idea what might have happened between him and Regina.

Dafydd kept a close watch on Regina out of the corner of his eye as they walked away from the hustle of the village and towards the Brae. There was something different about her, he thought; she wasn't quite the same as he remembered. She looked… older, he realized suddenly. Not drastically older; it wasn't as though she had Aged decades in only moments, as Tarrant had done in the Outlands. But she had Aged; another mark her experiences had laid on her. Something precious had been taken from her; her charming naivety, the innocence in her large green eyes, had vanished. She may only have gained a year from her birthday, but she had Aged quite a bit more than that.

She seemed profoundly uncomfortable, he noticed, and it wasn't just the physical pain she must have been in, nor even the discomfort of the winter chill; she wore a thick woolen dress and had been wrapped in a heavy fur-lined coat to protect her from the wind. Something was bothering her; there was something she wasn't telling him. He couldn't see any injuries, which meant he must not have assaulted her, but… He felt his heart falling. Was it possible he had done something else to her? What had he said to her, during their encounter in the woods? He barely remembered it; he knew, or at least he was fairly certain, that she had been there. He thought he might have kissed her… Was that it? Had he frightened her, been too forward? Or… he clenched his jaw in fear. He hadn't tried to force himself on her, had he? Oh Fates, if he had made her afraid of him…

As they made it to the crest of Hightopp Hill, Regina felt a profound sense of déjà vu. She had stood on the Brae only eight days ago, dancing with Dafydd as the Music wrapped around them like a caress. Only eight days… But Regina felt eons older, and so much less innocent. Was she still the same person? How could she possibly be the same Regina who had danced while the twilight settled around her like a benediction, dreaming such innocent and impossible dreams? How was it possible that every belief, every relationship she held so dear, had been blown apart and ripped to shreds? Was anything the same anymore?

"Regina?" Dafydd asked hesitantly. "What… what happened? Between us, after the battle?"

Regina froze, her fists closing around folds in her coat as she hugged herself. Oh no. She didn't want to relive what had happened; she didn't want to have to face Dafydd when he told her that it was all true, that he couldn't stand her and that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

He watched her freeze, watched her face pale, and his own fear started rising. Witzend had been right; he'd done something terrible to her. Something to break her heart. Would she tell him the truth? More importantly, would she allow him to make amends?

"I… I don't know how much it matters…" she began hesitantly. "I mean, you were Mad, you can't…"  
>"Don't try to spare me, Regina," he burst out, dread lacing his voice. "Tell me what I did."<p>

A blush stained her cheek, and she bowed her head, but her voice couldn't quite hide the fact that there were tears in her eyes.

"You said… that I'd divided your loyalties," she admitted, the pain clear in her voice. "That I led you to… to betray your family, for no good reason. So I… I released you from my service."

His eyes widened in shock. Her every word cut into him like shards of glass, and with every passing moment the shards drove their way further and further through him, creating wounds that went soul deep. Oh Fates, what had he done?

"I…"

He had no idea what to say; what on earth could be said to that? How could he apologize for what he had done, what he had put her through? What apology was enough for the betrayal he had committed against her? She was trying so hard to hold herself together and remain calm, but it was painfully, exquisitely obvious to him that he had cut her to the core. How could he make amends for hurting her?

He walked towards her cautiously on shaky legs. She looked up at him, and the expression on his face drove another sword through his heart. Heartbreak, resignation, a complete breaking of her trust in him. He hadn't realized how important that trust had become to him, until now, when he saw it in shattered pieces.

He fell to his knees before her, blinking back tears and swallowing the lump in his throat as he shakily took her hand. Her fingers were cold and nerveless, and he felt them shaking slightly.

"I owe my life to you," he said in a near-whisper, pressing his forehead against her hand. "I belong to you, Princess. Don't accept what I said," he quietly begged her. "Don't listen to the words of a Mad man."  
>"You said that I tore you apart," she said quietly. "You… It was clear that you hated me."<br>"Never," he whispered, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.  
>"I can't hold you against your will," she said, her voice cracking; he felt a tear fall onto his head. "I won't."<p>

He looked up at her, forcing himself to watch the tears falling from her eyes. He staggered to his feet, raising his hand to wipe away her tears, but stopping himself. He had no right to comfort her, not when her pain was his fault.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked, his voice choked.

He dreaded her answer. Of course she wouldn't want him to stay; not after he'd apparently said that he didn't want anything to do with her. He had no idea what he would do, if she rejected him. She had released him from her service, so there was no place for him in Crims; he wasn't sure he could face his family, which meant he couldn't stay in Iplam. He would have to return to the Outlands, he thought, a sick feeling of dread rising in him at the prospect. Cut off from his family, his home, from her… But what other choice was there?

"No," she whispered, her tears falling harder. "I don't want you to leave."

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath; at her statement it left him in a rush. His head bowed and his shoulders sagged under the weight of his relief. Oh, thank the Fates. He would do anything, anything, to regain her trust; he would do everything in his power to repair her damaged faith in him, to make amends. As long as she let him stay.

"Then I'm here," he whispered, promising her. "I'm not leaving until you order me away."  
>"Promise me," she whispered, her voice shaking.<br>"I swear it," he immediately said. "I'll stay as long as you'll have me."

She let out a shaky sigh, her head bowing, and this time he did allow himself to reach out for her. To his astonishment, she clung to him, burying her face in his chest as she quietly cried. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, a few tears of his own escaping to join hers. They clung to each other as they cried, absolving each other through their tears.

* * *

><p>They hadn't remained on the Brae much longer after their tenuous reconciliation. The instant Regina had swayed on her feet, Dafydd had immediately ushered her down to the High House. She hadn't even argued with him; truth be told, returning to the High House was as good an excuse as any to get away from him for a while. They had made their peace, yes, but it was yet another in a long line of reversals and upheavals over the past week, and Regina found that she simply didn't have the strength to deal with it yet. She just needed time to herself, and the High House was as good a place as any to find it.<p>

Dafydd didn't follow her into her suite. He delivered her into the waiting hands of Clover and Azalea, and then he quietly withdrew. Regina breathed a sigh of relief as he left; funny, how she was no longer able to breathe around him.

Clover and Azalea took one look at their young mistress, and then exchanged a long glance. Clover quietly locked the bedroom door and rushed to draw a hot bath while Azalea guided Regina to sit down, kneeling before her to remove her boots. No one spoke a word; Regina stared into space while Clover concentrated on the bath salts and Azalea hummed a gentle tune beneath her breath.

"Come on, lamb," Azalea said softly, gently urging Regina to stand. "Let's get you out of these heavy things and into the tub."

Regina shivered slightly as Azalea removed her heavy coat, and Clover bounced over to stoke up the fire. They moved quickly to undress Regina and remove her bandages, seeing how close Regina was to crying. As soon as she was undressed, Azalea guided Regina to the tub, helping her ease herself into the hot water. Regina curled into a small ball, whimpering softly as the first ugly colors leached out of her and into the bath water.

"Hush, precious," Azalea soothed her, stroking her hair. "Don't fight it; just let it all out into the water. You're not in a rush to be anywhere."

At that, Regina broke down in tears, burying her face in her knees as the leaching of her emotions increased. Clover and Azalea quietly retreated, leaving Regina to soak in her tub.

"I'll keep an eye on her," Azalea said in a near-whisper, shutting the door behind them. "You go fetch Isabeau. I think she needs a Healer."

Clover nodded, hurrying out of Regina's suite in search of Isabeau, the Clubs' Royal Healer. When she got downstairs, though, she stopped short at the sight in Lord Hightopp's sitting room.

The Sapphire King was sitting with two other men and a woman, deep in discussion. Clover knew the leonine Duke of Tenniel by sight; they'd never been introduced, but Clover was aware that he was Regina's regent in Crims. The third man was a mystery. He was tall and thin, with messy brown hair and large, inquisitive brown eyes shielded by rectangular black spectacles. His face wasn't conventionally handsome, but it was compelling; long nose, determined jaw, and thin lips. He was strangely dressed, in brown pinstripe trousers and a matching jacket, with a dark blue shirt underneath and a brown tie with blue swirls. The woman was likewise unfamiliar; she was also tall, and garbed in tight-fitting trousers, a loose tunic, and a floor-length brown trench coat. Her red hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her green eyes kept flicking back and forth between the three men as if she thought them all to be idiots.

"Ah, Clover, just the person we needed to see," Tarrant said, rising from his armchair.  
>"M'Lord," Clover said, bobbing a quick curtsey. "I'm sorry; I was just in search of Madam Isabeau."<br>Tarrant frowned, taking a step forward. "Is Regina alright?"  
>"Oh, her side's just fine, sire," Clover said quickly. "It's her emotions that need tending."<br>"Ah. Looks like we got here just in time, then," the man in brown said, smiling faintly.  
>"Clover, this is the Doctor," the Duke of Tenniel rumbled. "He's to be Regina's physician, once she's been crowned. And this is Noble, his… companion."<br>"Oi, not like that," Noble rushed to say, holding up her hands in defense. "I just keep 'im outta trouble."  
>"Well, she tries," the Doctor amended, with a disarming grin. "So Regina's ill, then?"<br>"Um, yes," Clover said, uncertain of this new doctor.  
>"The Duke and the King were just telling us about the Outlands," the Doctor said, standing and rubbing his hands together. "I'll just get right to work then, shall I? Clover, wasn't it?" he addressed her. "Lead the way upstairs."<p>

Still not entirely certain of this new development, Clover nonetheless turned and led the Doctor and Noble up the stairs and through the hallways to Regina's suite. She would have preferred Madam Isabeau to these strangers, honestly, but if they were going to ease Regina's grief then she'd be grateful.

"Azalea?" Clover called as she opened the door.  
>"Did you find Isabeau?" Azalea asked, walking out from the bedroom and stopping short when she saw the new people.<br>"Not exactly," Clover said apologetically.  
>"Allo there!" the Doctor said, walking forward with a smile. "I'm the Doctor, this is Noble. We're the new Royal Physician."<br>"I… see," Azalea said doubtfully. "I'm afraid her Highness is in the bath at the moment."  
>"Oh, that's alright, I don't mind," the Doctor said, walking right past a flabbergasted Azalea for the bathroom.<p>

As soon as he walked through the bathroom door, his demeanor changed, his customary joviality and sense of fun giving way to compassion as he saw the figure in the tub. She was in a bad way, he could tell just from her bathwater; it had been a long time since he'd seen someone leaching emotions so strongly. He smiled at her gently as she gasped and tried to shield herself with her hands; it wouldn't do to put her in even further distress. He glanced behind him to his companion, raising his eyebrows; she nodded in silent understanding and withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

"It's alright, Regina," he said gently, slowly walking forward. "I'm the Doctor."  
>"I'm sorry, Doctor who?" Regina asked, shrinking away from him.<br>His smile broadened slightly, and he shook his head. "Just the Doctor. I graduated from the medical university across the Sea in Jumphasor. Once you graduate, you give up your birth name and become simply a Doctor."  
>"I see," Regina murmured. "Um… it's very nice to meet you, Doctor. But what are you doing in my bathroom?"<br>"Doctoring," he answered, looking over the collection of bath salts, soaps and bottles of supplies gathered next to her tub. "I was talking with your father downstairs. He explained you've had a rough week."  
>A weak, shaky laugh escaped her. "You could say that, yes."<br>"Well," he said, folding his arms on the edge of the bathtub and resting his chin on them, "why don't you tell me all about it."  
>Regina raised her eyebrows. "While I'm sitting naked in a tub?"<br>"Well, I need to see what emotions you're feeling, don't I?" the Doctor asked. "Besides, it's comfy in here, innit? Someplace safe, where you don't need to put on a front."

Regina stared at him, this man with such old, old eyes staring out of his young face. She should have been wary of him; he was a stranger, after all, and he had just barged into her bathroom with no pretense or 'by your leave'. And yet, she found herself relaxing ever so slightly. There was something in his ancient-seeming eyes that instinctively made her trust him.

"I know you've only just met me, Regina, but I promise, I am here to help you," he said softly, the utmost care and compassion in his voice. "And to help you, I need to know what's happened to you. Will you trust me enough to tell me?"

She looked deep into his chocolate eyes. She hadn't told the story yet, she realized with a vague start. She hadn't actually told anyone, from start to finish, what had happened in the Outlands. Everyone knew pieces of the story- that she had been kidnapped, that she had escaped, that she was safe- but she hadn't told anyone the entire story. She'd told no one about the all-consuming fear, about Taran, about the specifics of her escape, about what exactly she'd done on the battlefield and what had happened between her and Dafydd. Maybe it would be a relief to tell someone, to share the burden.

Drawing a deep breath, she nodded slowly. "Alright."

The Doctor emerged from Regina's bathroom roughly an hour later. Closing the door behind him, he looked around the sitting room where Clover, Azalea, and Noble all sat, and clapped his hands, grinning as he startled them out of their stupor.

"Well now!" he said enthusiastically. "We have a Princess to take care of. Azalea, I think Regina's going to want her supper in here tonight. Clover, I'd like you to hunt down Dafydd."

The Doctor waited until the maids had left before he glanced at Noble, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Well?" Noble asked, folding her arms.  
>"I like her," the Doctor nodded, grinning. "I think we're gonna have a lot of fun in Crims."<br>"I'm glad to hear it," Noble said, rolling her eyes indulgently.  
>"D'you have my bag?" the Doctor asked, walking forward.<br>"Which one? The one with the medicines or the one with all your bloody rocks?" Noble deadpanned.  
>"The medicines, of course. The rocks wouldn't do much good at all, not with emotional imbalance," the Doctor scoffed. "Weeeeell, maybe the selenacious might help a bit, but honestly that would probably just induce her Madness, and we should probably let that alone."<br>"Brilliant conclusion. Did you come up with that all on your own?" Noble asked.

She hauled herself out of her armchair and walked over to the collection of bags she had brought upstairs while she waited on the Doctor. Humming to herself in approval, she handed a brown leather bag to him, rocking back on her heels to watch as he set the bag on the table and opened it, enthusiastically rummaging through it.

"So she's imbalanced?" Noble asked curiously.  
>"Oh, of course," the Doctor said absently, peering at a small bottle of blue liquid before shaking his head and replacing it. "After everything she went through I'd be afraid if she wasn't a bit unbalanced. Nothing that can't be corrected, though, if we give her the right combination," he added. "Definitely some Calm, poor girl needs it. Maybe some Peace, enough to help her quiet down. Have we got any Serenity left?"<br>"You used the last of it on that Flower girl in Marmoreal," Noble replied.  
>"Oh, yes," the Doctor said, sobering in remembrance. "Rose. I alerted the King to what the Count did, you know."<br>"Of course you did," Noble said, completely unsurprised. "I did, too. No girl should have to go through what she did with that odious man."  
>"He should be out of the castle by now, stripped of his title and his lands," the Doctor mused, a darkly happy look on his face. "He deserved worse."<br>"What about Rose?" Noble asked. "What'll happen to her?"  
>"The King assured me she'd be cared for," the Doctor said. "I guess that's the best we can hope for. Anyways, about Regina."<br>"Right. Yes," Noble said, shaking her head to clear it of worry for the Flower and get back on track. "So Peace and Calm. Shall we put it in her tea?"  
>"Noooo," the Doctor drawled. "You can't mix Teas with teas, remember? Too much chance of an overdose, or the Tea will react against the tea and leave the patient in a worse state than before. She needs to take it with food. Pity she probably won't have much of an appetite for the next few days," the Doctor said. "I'm hoping her Champion can get her to eat a little something."<br>"He's the one that did this to her in the first place, isn't he?" Noble asked, thinking back to the conversation they'd been having with the King of Clubs.  
>"He did some of it," the Doctor acknowledged. "But the King seems to think that he's also the most likely one Regina will accept help from."<br>"Fair enough," Noble shrugged. "I'll go sort us out some rooms then, while you're Doctoring."

With that, she stood, heading out the door just as Clover returned with a man whom Noble could only assume was the Princess' Champion. She raised her eyebrows as she watched him go in; he wasn't a bad-looking one at all. Pity he was apparently such an idiot…

Dafydd narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the tall, thin man who stood beside the empty dining table, regarding him with a detached curiosity.

"Who are you?" he asked.  
>"I'm the Doctor," the man replied. "Regina's Royal Physician. The Duke of Tenniel brought me here to look after her while she recovers."<p>

Dafydd relaxed slightly at that statement. Leferidae was almost as protective of Regina as Dafydd was; the Lion wouldn't have brought anyone near Regina unless he trusted them.

"I could use your help, actually," the Doctor continued, waving him forward. "I'm going to give Regina some medicine to keep her calm while she's healing. They're called Emotion Teas," he said, holding up a vial marked Calm. "They elicit emotional responses from the patient."  
>"So this one will make her calm?" Dafydd asked.<br>"Exactly," the Doctor nodded. "Depending on the dose, and the tolerance level of the patient, the effects will last anywhere between a few hours and a day or two. If we keep Regina on a low dosage of Calm, maybe with some Peace mixed in, it will help her body focus and heal itself, not to mention process everything that's happened."  
>"It's clever," Dafydd commented, watching as the Doctor mixed a dose.<br>"I know," the Doctor nodded. "Teas like this are quite commonplace across the Sea, but they don't seem to be used here."  
>"My tribe had something like these, in the Outlands," Dafydd commented, glancing at the wide variety of bottles in the Doctor's bag. "They could be addictive."<br>"Yes, they can be," the Doctor admitted. "But only if they're taken without proper supervision and mixing. I'll mix each dose for Regina personally. She'll be perfectly safe."  
>"So what do you need from me?" Dafydd asked.<br>"You need to make sure she eats," the Doctor replied. "Given her emotional upheaval, the last thing she'll be thinking of is food. But the Teas are more volatile on an empty stomach, so we want to give her her doses with food. I also need you to just be there. Just sit with her. She doesn't need to be forced to talk about what she went through out there; matter of fact, I suggest not bringing it up at all, if you can help it. Not yet. But she needs some kind of grounding presence, and I think that's what you are to her."

Dafydd winced, looking away. Perhaps that's what he had been, Before. But now? Would Regina allow him that close? He had broken her trust in him; could he still be such a grounding presence and agent of calm? He rather doubted it.

The Doctor, seemingly sensing Dafydd's mood, closed his bag, handing Dafydd a small vial with a small amount of pastel blue liquid inside.

"She should pour this into a goblet of water. Don't let her take it with the other kind of tea," he said. "I'll be in to check on her in the morning."

Dafydd nodded silently, watching as the Doctor left. He glanced around the sitting room, sighing; he could hear Regina in the bathroom beyond, in the tub apparently. Deciding to leave her there for now, he grabbed the dining table and started dragging it towards the French doors that led to her small balcony. It was too cold outside to eat on the balcony, but they could at least eat near the doors, which let in the moonlight.

By the time he'd gotten the table and chairs set up, the kitchen servants had arrived with trays for supper. Dafydd waited while they set everything down, then nodded gratefully at Azalea as she shooed them all out. He sank into one of the two armchairs, sighing deeply in exhaustion as he waited for Regina to emerge from the bathroom.

He looked up as the door opened, and Regina emerged. Her riotous red-gold curls had been pulled back into a long braid that fell down her back. She wore a delicate, gauzy light blue nightgown that fell to her feet, the skirt fluttering with every step she took. The cap sleeves really did nothing to keep Regina warm; in fact, the entire gown was more suited to hot summer nights than to the chill of the winter evening. So Clover had draped Regina in a large, warm shawl of a deeper blue, and shod her feet in fur slippers.

For a moment, they didn't speak; they merely looked at each other, reading each others' thoughts through their faces and eyes. Silently, she shook her head, looking down.

"You have to eat, Regina," Dafydd said softly.  
>"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.<br>"A few bites," he coaxed her.

She could have refused, but they both knew that he could easily pick her up and put her in a seat. So she reluctantly acquiesced, sinking into the armchair opposite him. She picked listlessly at the squimberries, roasted flamingo, and Tumtum nut bread, but he coaxed her to eat a little of everything, and to dutifully take the medicine the Doctor had left for her. When she heard a bottle being uncorked, she glanced up, eyebrows raising to see Dafydd pouring out a large goblet of potent dandelion wine.

"I'm not sure my da would thank you for this," she commented, accepting the glass.  
>"Probably not," Dafydd agreed quietly. "But I'm not his Champion, I'm yours. And if I perceive that my Queen needs an escape from her thoughts, I'm honor-bound to provide her with one."<br>A soft, pathetic smile tugged at her lips. "I'll toast to that."  
>Dafydd frowned in confusion. "You want toast?"<br>"No," she said, a weak almost-laugh leaving her. "It's an Uplandish custom. We both raise our glasses, clink them together, and then drink in honor of what was said."  
>"Oh. Then why not call it an Honoring? Why Toast?" Dafydd asked, as they clinked goblets.<br>Regina shrugged. "Because it's the Aboveground. They're mad up there, you know."

They finished their meal in silence. Then, in unspoken accord, Dafydd pushed the table out of the way so they could turn their armchairs and look out the windows into the night sky. Regina sank into one armchair, curling up like a kitten and nursing her goblet, while Dafydd sat beside her, head tilted back to stare up at the sky.

Neither of them spoke, or even moved really, except to refill their glasses. The wine was mercifully strong; Regina found the world going fuzzy and unfocused, and all of her thoughts were muted, slowly being blotted out by the dull roar of the wine. It was a comforting, wonderful carelessness, and she clung to it, drinking often enough to prolong the lovely apathy. They continued drinking in silent camaraderie as twilight deepened into true night, and the stars came out to dance across the sky.

"I'm going to take the White Vow," Regina announced softly, staring up at the brilliant night sky.

She had made her decision after talking to the Doctor. She might be a Champion Begat of Champions, but she wasn't Alice or Tarrant. Killing was not her path. She was not a warrior, and to pretend she was was foolishness. She never wanted to stand on a field of combat again; she never again wanted to feel a blade in her hands, never wanted to see her palms stained red with an enemy's blood.

The Vow would place increased pressure on Dafydd, she knew. Every ruling Queen had a Champion as a matter of course, but in the case of a Queen who had renounced violence, a Champion was absolutely essential. If Regina forsook violence, it would mean that she would be defenseless in the case of attack, unable to lift a hand in her own defense. It would fall entirely upon Dafydd's shoulders to safeguard her; he would never be allowed to relax his vigilance over her. Perhaps it was unfair of her to take such a Vow; to do so would mean forfeiting Dafydd's ability to have a normal life. He would never be able to be away from her; even if he should marry and have a family of his own, their needs would always come secondary to her own.

"I realize that to do so would place more burdens on you," she said, keeping her gaze on the stars instead of him. "You would always have to be beside me, always guarding me. You would never have a life of your own; everything you are would be at my disposal. It… it's not what you agreed to, when I asked you to be my Champion. And you've made me no formal Vows. If you don't want to take on the responsibilities you would need to, to champion a White Queen… I understand. I would release you."

The words left her reluctantly. It was an important question, though, one which needed to be asked. Dafydd had rejected her once already, even though Madness had driven him to it. If she accepted him back, he deserved to know what he would be dealing with. Because once he made that Vow, that was it; there was no going back. He deserved a chance to back out, if this life wasn't what he truly wanted.

The quiet remained after she made her statement. It wasn't a pregnant silence, filled with emotion and tension; it was simply quiet. Regina kept her gaze on the sky, afraid to turn and see the expression on Dafydd's face. But a moment later, he'd taken her hand, using his free hand to gently turn her head so their gazes locked.

"I'm yours, Regina," he reminded her. "I'm not going to walk away. If you want to take the White Vow, I'll be there to protect you. Always."

She stared into his dark blue eyes, reading his sincerity. She knew he meant what he said; he never spoke if he didn't intend to stand by his words. She tightened her fingers around his, nodding silently and blinking back grateful tears. Her faith in him had been sorely tested, and her trust in him was still shaky. But he was going to stay; he would protect her. There was time to build their trust back up. She would bind herself under the White Vow, and he would protect her. And perhaps someday, they would be able to forgive themselves for everything they had done to get to this point.

He lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers, and they sat that way for the rest of the night, hands joined, silently watching the stars dance themselves into morning's light.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimers<strong>: The de-Aging sequence is inspired by King Theoden's healing in _The Two Towers_.

Also, while the Doctor and Noble are pretty much just straight-up Doctor Ten and Donna from _Doctor Who_, this has not suddenly become a crossover fic. There is no TARDIS, no sonic screwdriver, and no Daleks, Cybermen, or Weeping Angels. I was just in need of a doctor character, and my brain took that and ran with it.


	11. Future Forgiveness

**Author's Note**: Most of this chapter came as a complete surprise to me. There was really only one thing I needed this chapter for; the rest of it happened entirely on its own. But the stuff the characters added in is all great; they tied up a lot of their plot threads, but still gave me enough to continue playing with them in Book Three. Also, any time I get to watch Dafydd be both an idiot and absolutely adorable, it puts me in a really good mood. Enjoy!

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's gazebo [I'm sorry for the Twilight overtones; imagine vines of morning glories instead of lights and sparkling vampires]: http:/ twilightguide. com/ tg/ wp-content/ themes/ Aspire/ graphics/ cat/ twilight- movie- photos/ twilight- gazebo. jpg  
>Dafydd's clan marker: http: www. officialpsds. com/ images/ thumbs/ Button- for- clothes- psd 46196. png  
>The new Keeper looks like this. http: lunarmom. files. wordpress. com/ 2010/ 09/ dscn1716. jpg

**Keeper Notes**: The name Zhithene is an amalgamation of Zhi and Athena, both characters from mythology [Chinese and Greek respectively, to be precise]. Both names mean 'wisdom.' The name is pronounced zi-THEE-nee.

**Disclaimer**: The name for Regina's new castle and capital, Isla Affalin, comes from the name Inis Avalon. Yes, that Avalon. I'm a bit of a nut for Arthurian mythology, and the idea of a utopian summerland kingdom of peace was too perfect not to use. That's also the reason why Regina's standard is of an apple tree; Inis Avalon is Welsh for "isle of apples."

* * *

><p>"I'm amazed, Leferidae," Regina stated, leaning on the arm of her leonine adviser as they walked through the still-being-planted royal gardens. "I didn't think the restorations could possibly be completed so quickly. How much longer before everything's ready?"<br>"Assuming Time holds himself at least somewhat steady, I think everything will be ready within a few more months' time," Leferidae answered. "And once it's all completed…"  
>"Yes. The Queenmaking," Regina nodded, her eyes unfocusing.<p>

She attempted to look pleased and enthusiastic, but in truth she was simply overwhelmed. The former castle of Salazen Grum had been completely dismantled, and over the course of six months it had been rebuilt to better suit its next Queen. The red, white and black color scheme favored by the former Queen of Hearts had been replaced by gold and purple. The narrow, labyrinthine passageways and carnival house-like architecture were replaced by graceful curves and expansive chambers. Nothing was square, but rather softly rounded. Even the name of the castle and capital had been changed, from the dark memories of Salazen Grum to the shining, hopeful promise of Isla Affalin.

With every passing day, more and more work was completed on the castle. And as completion loomed nearer, so too did the occasion of Regina's Queenmaking. Not for the first time, Regina wondered if she was ready. She had been preparing for this eventuality since her return to Underland, yes. But it had only been half a year. Lily had been studying her entire life for her role as the future Queen of Marmoreal, and she still wasn't ready. Yet Regina was supposed to be prepared in only a few weeks' time, a month or two more at the most?

Granted, she wasn't about to embark on Queenship entirely on her own. On the advice of Mirana and Alice, Regina had formed a Council to advise her for at least the first year or two of her reign. Rhonwen had already accepted the position, stating that the Hightopps could do without one Elder for a while. Leferidae had also immediately offered himself to Regina's service, for which she was incredibly grateful. The third position had been taken by Baron Vulpez, formerly of the last Queen's Court. Regina had been wary of offering the position to one of Iracebeth's toadies, but Leferidae had convinced her that to do so would win her the support of her Court, most of whom had served the deposed Queen. They had power and influence in Crims, and Regina would need their support if she wished to implement any change at all in her queendom.

And goodness knew, there would need to be plenty of change. Crims had barely functioned for untold years; as Queen, Regina would be expected to provide her subjects with a steady economy, a supply of goods for barter and trade, and internal safety from robbers and brigands. Rebuilding the kingdom to a position of strength would take years, yet she would be expected to have made palpable strides within months. She would need all the help she could muster to repair the damage that Iracebeth and Time had done to Crims.

Leferidae glanced down at Regina, and placed a paw over her hand. "I'm here with you, your Highness," he reminded her. "We will rebuild Crims, I promise you."

She looked up at him with a watery smile, silently nodding her thanks. From his place just behind them, Dafydd glanced between them, taking in the exhaustion lurking in the shadows of Regina's eyes and the protective warmth in Leferidae's, before clearing his throat.

"I think we've been touring long enough," he said brusquely, stepping forward and falling into step with Regina. "You said you had tea waiting somewhere in the gardens?"  
>"Yes, of course," Leferidae nodded. "I apologize, Highness. I realize you must still be fatigued from your recent… experiences, shall we say?"<br>"Thank you, Leferidae, but I've been much better," Regina smiled. "Still, I'll never turn down a cuppa."  
>"Well then, shall we?" he asked, heading down a winding path.<p>

Dafydd didn't reply as he followed them down the path, but he kept a close eye on Regina as they walked. It had been two weeks since their return from the Outlands, and while Regina had been doing better, she was clearly not alright. The bruises had faded away, and even the wound on her side had mostly healed now. All that was left were the emotional scars, and Dafydd wasn't sure if Regina would ever fully heal from those.

She still hadn't told him what had happened to her out there. He had his guesses; Taran hadn't been among the Nazari when they crossed over into Underland, and he had been the one assigned to kill Regina out at the Gorges. He had noticed that when Regina thought she was unobserved, she would stare at her hands, sometimes rubbing them as if trying to clean them. But she hadn't told him a single detail of her time in the Outlands; she carried that burden silently and attempted to fool him into thinking she was alright. Sometimes he wondered if he should be offended, that she thought she could fool him so easily.

He wished that she would tell him; it hurt him to know that he had lost her trust. He was her Champion, or at least he was very soon going to be, officially; it was his job to protect her, but how could he do that if she didn't tell him what it was she suffered? He hated seeing her slowly wilt and fade away beneath the grief she kept so closely guarded. There were shadows in her eyes now, a permanent sadness in her smile. She didn't bounce when she walked, and she never hummed anymore. He missed her humming; he missed the innocence that had once shined from her eyes. He knew the innocence would never, _could_ never return, but he hoped that someday she would heal from the trauma she had undergone. He very much wished that she would allow him to help her, that someday they wouldn't tread so warily around each other.

Of course, she didn't seem to be missing him very much. Regina had spent an increasing amount of time with Leferidae in the past two weeks. The Lion had easily charmed her, had won her trust seemingly without trying. He put her at ease; sometimes he even made her smile. And he knew it was petty of him, but Dafydd begrudged Leferidae every smile he won. _He_ was her Champion, not the Lion; it was _his_ job to make her smile. He was supposed to be fixing her, making things right between them; it wasn't fair that Leferidae was stealing that from him.

But contrariwise, Leferidae was easing Regina's grief, even if only for a while. He was helping her. Dafydd couldn't, wouldn't begrudge her that relief. Her peace was the important thing; who gave it to her didn't matter, so long as she wasn't crushed beneath her guilt. He had no right to dictate where Regina found her peace, and so he remained silent behind her, trying to school his face into composure.

He glanced ahead to her, but she gave no signs that she was paying the least bit of attention to him as they entered her private garden. For once, he was glad of it; it gave him the time he needed to compose himself. Regina's sanctuary was ringed on all sides by the apple trees she'd chosen as her emblem, and edged in Flowers- delicate, ladylike Irises, lusty Lilies, shy, retiring Pansies and gossiping Daisies. A three-tiered fountain merrily burbled away in one corner; a swing had been tied to the overhanging branch of a particularly large oak tree. Regina had planned this garden herself, and it showed; the place screamed her personality in every last detail.

Beneath a large white iron gazebo covered in bright blue morning glories, a tea table was set out. As befit the daughter of the Mad Hatter, none of the china matched; at least a dozen different sets had been shuffled and placed onto the table. Already seated was the Doctor, his glasses perched on his nose as he mixed up another blend of Teas, humming absently to himself. Dafydd heard Regina's slight sigh, and glanced over at her just in time to intercept her suffering gaze. One corner of his mouth curled up in a sympathetic smile, but he couldn't save her. The Doctor had been Regina's shadow for the past two weeks, carefully monitoring her emotional state and liberally dosing her with his Emotion Teas when he thought it warranted. Dafydd knew that Regina hated being coddled, but he couldn't object to the Doctor keeping an eye on her. And while he wasn't entirely certain that it was healthy for Regina's emotions to be so regulated that she hadn't even, to his knowledge, cried about her experiences, the Doctor was still keeping Regina calm and able to focus, and that was something.

"Hullo there!" the Doctor said cheerfully as the party approached.  
>"Good afternoon, Doctor," Regina replied, a faint smile lifting her lips. "Where's Noble?"<br>"Off having a bit of a snit," the Doctor replied, an abashed look on his face. "I might've, maybe, insulted her new haircut. Y'know. A bit."  
>"Oh, Doctor," Regina said, giggling. "How could you? And you know how proud she is of her new fringe!"<br>"Well, it's her fault," the Doctor protested, folding his arms. "She insulted my rocks!"  
>"She always insults your rocks, Doctor," Regina pointed out. "That's no excuse to malign the lady's hair."<br>The Doctor scoffed. "Noble is _not_ a lady. No lady should be able to kick like that."

Regina giggled again as Leferidae ushered her into her seat- a delicate lady's armchair, with dark, heavily carved wood and sky blue fabric to match her morning glories- before taking a seat himself. At an expectant, raised eyebrow from Regina, Dafydd sat down at the table instead of standing in the background. Regina knew Dafydd objected to sitting down when he was working- but honestly, it was time for a private Tea Party. So he wasn't really working, and he was going to sit down and drink his tea like a civilized Hightopp. As he unbuckled his claymore and took his seat beside her, Regina pulled her rolling cart of tea supplies closer, eyes narrowing slightly in concentration as she sorted through herbs and loose-leaf teas.

"No drinking," the Doctor reminded her, nodding at the tea she was preparing.  
>"I know," Regina sighed wistfully. "How much longer will you keep me on these Teas, Doctor?"<br>"Not much longer now, I think," he said thoughtfully, peering into her face.  
>"That's a relief," Regina nodded. "I'd like to actually be able to enjoy my tea sets."<br>"And it's a lovely set, your Highness," Leferidae commented as Regina set her tea to steep.  
>"Thank you. One of a million presents from my da," she smiled. "He spoils me horribly."<br>"I think he spoils you rather wonderfully, personally," Leferidae said with a smile.

Regina laughed prettily, smiling as the Lion took her hand in his paw to press a courtly kiss to it, an action which Dafydd observed with a faint frown. Not that he objected to Regina being courted; not at all. She was young, beautiful, and about to become a Queen. Of course she would eventually be obligated to marry and produce an heir. He knew that and accepted it. It was just… too early in the afternoon for him to have to sit through flirtation, that's all. And what business did Leferidae have in paying her such compliments anyways, Dafydd asked himself grumpily. The Red Lions were the guardians of the throne of Crims, but never became the rulers; he couldn't marry Regina even if he wanted to. So why was he showering her with so much flattery, and showing her such deference?

"What do you think, Doctor?" Regina asked, trying to hold back her displeased face as she watched the Doctor mix her next dose of medicine into a goblet of water. "How has my athair spoiled me?"  
>"Spoiling implies that something good has gone rotten," the Doctor answered. "You look pretty well preserved to me, so I don't think he's spoiled you at all. Not for want of trying though, I'll admit that," he grinned, handing her the goblet.<br>"With all these medicines you're giving me, I daresay I'll be perfectly preserved forever. Like a good jam," Regina said thoughtfully, toasting the Doctor before taking her dose.  
>"Oh heavens no, you're far too plucky to make a jam," the Doctor said, making a face. "You'd make a right proper cup of tea, but never a jam."<p>

Dafydd leaned back in his chair, trying to keep from rolling his eyes. The Doctor too? Was everyone determined to pay court to Regina today? And if so, why couldn't they wait to do it until he wasn't in her presence, unable to escape it? Of course, there was the little fact that he was the Champion-To-Be and he could never leave her presence… But really, that should be taken into consideration when anyone attempted their flirtations, he grouched to himself.

He was jerked from his thoughts as Regina laid a hand on his forearm. He blinked, looking over at her and accepting the teacup she held out to him.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, though there was little chance of her being overheard; the Doctor and Leferidae were lost in their discussion of what kind of preserves Regina might be. "You look as frumious as a Bandersnatch."  
>"I'm fine," he immediately said, trying to find a smile for her. "Just… thinking too much."<br>"Well, as your Queen- or, at least, your Queen-To-Be- I command you to stop," she said, a small smile on her face that didn't quite stretch up to her eyes. "We both need to stop thinking, I think. At least for a while."  
>Dafydd nodded, a not-quite-smile of his own answering hers. "What shall we do instead?" he asked, taking a long sip of his tea.<br>"Run," she replied softly, her eyes unfocusing. "We'll run far, far away, until we've left ourselves and our troubles far behind."  
>"Who will we be, when we've left ourselves behind?" he asked, tilting his head.<br>"I don't know," she replied thoughtfully. "Isn't that the fun of it? Becoming someone new? I used to pretend that I could, you know," she said suddenly. "Before I knew who I was, I would try other names on for size. As if I could become someone else, just by wearing a new name."  
>"Did it ever work?" Dafydd asked curiously.<br>"Sometimes," Regina smiled reminiscently. "I could become the Queen of Sheba for a while, sometimes."  
>"I would rather you become the Queen of Crims," Leferidae rumbled, smiling.<p>

Regina started, turning her attention to her leonine adviser, and Dafydd wasn't quite able to conceal his scowl. It was terribly rude to listen in on a private conversation, even if said private conversation was carried out in public. Why did Leferidae have to destroy the fragile little dream world they'd been building? Why was he so disinclined to let them escape for a while?

"I think I could manage to be both at once," Regina replied, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Of course, I do seem to be lacking a King Solomon, and I could hardly be Sheba without a Solomon. I suppose I'll have to content myself with only being the Queen of Crims, then."  
>"And why would you want to be the Queen of Sheba, anyways?" the Doctor asked, steepling his fingers. "Sheba sounds like sheep, and you wouldn't want to be the Queen of sheep. Nasty-tempered things, they are, and I've never had a decent conversation with any of them."<br>"Why in the worlds were you trying to have a conversation with sheep?" Regina giggled.  
>"Well, it's quite rude to just shave them and run!" the Doctor protested.<p>

Dafydd tuned out of the conversation; frankly, contemplating what possible use the Doctor might have for sheep was too disturbing. He slouched in his chair slightly, leaning his head against the high back of his armchair as he drank his tea and observed his Queen-To-Be. The Teas were taking effect, he could see; her curls were regaining a bit of their spring, and some of the tension had left the set of her shoulders. She was beginning to feel the Calm, and it appeared that the Doctor had cut the dose with a drop or two of Happiness, because her smile was growing in both size and strength. But her eyes, he knew, wouldn't be changing colors to reflect the false emotions. If anything, they would be ever so slightly glazed over, and certainly flat. Just because she was under the influence of Happiness didn't mean that she truly felt it. He longed for the day when he would see her eyes glowing with true happiness again, but for now, this was enough.

Watching the way she was improving under the Teas, Dafydd was tempted to ask the Doctor for a blend of his own. Fates knew he would give anything for some Peace. He knew it wasn't real; eventually the Tea would wear off, and he'd be left to wrestle with his own ugly emotions again. But the Doctor had given Regina the Teas in order to give her Time; Time enough to heal her bodily injuries, to give her the strength to fix the wounds to her soul. Dafydd wished he could have the same. Just a little Time; time enough to rest, just for a little while. He felt so very tired… But then, why did he deserve more Time, when he had stolen so much Time from his brother?

A fluttering in his peripheral vision distracted him from his dark thoughts. Standing silently, he slipped away from the table, leaving Regina, Leferidae and the Doctor to their conversation as he walked to the edge of the garden, and the Rabbit who waited there, looking down at his surroundings with a superior air.

"This is the Princess' private garden," Dafydd said, a hand on his sword. "You don't have leave to be here."  
>"I bear an urgent message from the High Queen, Champion-To-Be," the Rabbit said disdainfully. "Would you detain me?"<br>"If you don't polish your manners before you speak to the Princess? I'd do much worse than _detain_ you," Dafydd replied.  
>The Rabbit drew himself to his full height, his long ears twitching agitatedly. "I come on urgent business, <em>Outlander<em>. More important than you have leave to know of. You cannot prevent me from delivering my message."

In a flash, Dafydd's sword was out and placed against the Rabbit's neck. He smiled darkly at the fear plainly written in the Animal's eyes. Before he could take off the Rabbit's head, however, Dafydd's nose was assaulted by the scents of honeysuckle and sandalwood, and he felt himself relaxing against his will. Astonishing, that she could hold such sway over him without even touching him.

"Dafydd? What's the matter?" Regina asked, knowing enough of his protective streak to remain behind him.  
>"This jackalope claims to bear a message from the White Queen," Dafydd replied, glaring at the Animal. "But his manners don't live up to the claim."<br>"Deliver your message, Sir Page, and quickly," Regina replied, laying a staying hand on Dafydd's arm as she drew even with him.  
>The Rabbit drew himself up with affronted dignity, glaring at Dafydd before turning to Regina. "The White Queen summons you to Marmoreal."<br>"For what purpose?" Regina asked. "I'm not due at Marmoreal for another three days-"  
>"It is for a purpose I may not speak of freely," the Rabbit replied, with pointed glances at Dafydd, and the tea table behind them.<br>"We will withdraw," the Lion stated, bowing low to Regina before exiting the garden.  
>"Regina, if you're gonna be riding to Marmoreal, I want you to take some extra medicine with you," the Doctor said, standing. "Just in case you need it. I'll mix it up and send it along to your rooms."<p>

Once the Doctor had wandered off, Regina and Dafydd exchanged glances before looking back at the White Queen's supercilious messenger.

"Now speak," Dafydd ordered.  
>"You do not have leave to hear of this matter, Outlander," the Rabbit said stiffly.<br>Regina didn't frown, exactly, but a stony look descended on her face. "Then you may leave with your message undelivered, Sir Page," she stated. "Dafydd is my Champion, and privy to all my meetings. We have no secrets between us."

Dafydd drew a breath, trying to keep his face impassive. Well, that wasn't entirely true; he had at least one secret that Regina didn't, could never, know. And Regina was keeping secrets of her own. But he wasn't about to mention that.

The Rabbit twitched, but spoke. "Very well then. The White Queen bids me tell you that the new Keeper of the Oraculum has arrived, and the Keeper desires to meet with you."  
>Regina blinked in utter confusion. "New Keeper? But what of Absolem…?"<br>"The White Queen promises to explain to you, but you must make for Marmoreal with all due haste," the Rabbit said.

Regina and Dafydd exchanged glances again, and in silent agreement they withdrew from the Rabbit, walking to the Tea Table where they could converse without being overheard.

"Why wouldn't the High Queen contact you with a Looking Glass?" Dafydd asked immediately. "Why bother sending a messenger, let alone one that rude?"  
>Regina shook her head. "I have no idea. Perhaps she's distracted. Do you think it's safe?"<br>Dafydd shrugged. "There's very little I can't protect you from," he said; not a boast, just a fact. "If you feel up to riding to Marmoreal, then we'll go."

Regina thought for a moment, catching her lip between her teeth, but eventually curiosity won out. All this business about a new Keeper… surely something odd had happened, while Regina and Dafydd had been away. And if they were being summoned… well, Regina wasn't going to ignore a summons, from either the High Queen or from the Keeper of the Oraculum.

"We will set out for Marmoreal at once, Sir Page," she announced. "Will you return with us?"  
>"Not I," the Rabbit shook his head. "I have other errands to run."<br>"Very well," Regina nodded. "Then Fairfarren."

Without sparing a further glance for the Rabbit, Regina swept out of her garden, Dafydd close on her heels. When they reached the palace doors, he caught her elbow.

"I'll go get the Deuces," he said. "We'll be ready to leave by the time you change."

Regina nodded her understanding, and then headed into the castle, navigating to what would someday soon be her palatial suite of chambers. Her riding clothes were laid on the as-yet-unmade bed, right where she'd left them. For a moment, she simply stood in the doorway, looking into the room- more specifically, at the narrow, plain bed positioned perpendicular to her own.

Dafydd hadn't slept in her room with her since their return from the Outlands. He had actually made use of his own quarters, which both of them had forgotten he even had, since for the past six-month he'd slept at the foot of her bed. She wondered if his absence was the reason she hadn't slept well in the past two weeks. Without the comfort of his soft breathing, his slumbering form in the dark, she seemed to be unable to relax; her sleep was shallow and frequently interrupted with nightmares. Funny, how her own rooms should seem so alien and unsafe and far, far too large for just her.

But should she ask him to return to her room? She wasn't entirely sure she was ready for that, not yet. Being around him was still uncomfortable and awkward. She hated that she couldn't relax around him, but how could she relax? She didn't know how much, if anything, he remembered of their encounter in Iplam; and not knowing whether he was secretly harboring hatred- or love- made her incredibly unsure of herself. How could they go back to how they'd been before?

Sighing, she shook her head; she didn't have time for these thoughts. Struggling a bit without Clover and Azalea to help her, she undressed, changing back into her riding breeches and tunic, pulling her soft, comfortable boots on. Tying her hair up off her neck with quick, efficient movements, she folded her gown and under things, packing them back into the pack she'd brought with her that morning. Glancing around to be sure she had everything, she left her suite and headed outside.

Dafydd and the Deuces were waiting for her, mounted and ready to go. Dafydd dismounted as she approached, taking her pack from her and securing it to his saddle as she climbed onto Sora's back.

"We'll have to hurry if we want to make it before nightfall," he commented.  
>She felt a small grin tug at her lips. "I'll race you to Marmoreal's gate."<p>

Without waiting for his response, she kicked Sora into a sprint. An answering smirk on his face, Dafydd swung into his saddle and took off after her, the rest of the Deuces cheering and taking off after their Princess and Captain. Within moments, Dafydd had outpaced Regina, and she yelled in protest as her hair ripped out of its pins and flew behind her like a banner as she urged Sora onwards.

It was probably irresponsible of him to race her like this, he reflected. It was too easy to throw a dagger Regina's way, or Fates forbid, lame Sora and kidnap her once the Panther had outpaced the Deuces' Horses. But… Dafydd tossed a glance over his shoulder. Even from up here, he could see the smile on Regina's face. She was relaxed, almost happy. And that was why he was throwing caution to the wind; there were times when keeping her happy was more important than keeping her safe.

They raced all the way to Marmoreal, the Deuces eventually fanning out to guard ahead and behind while Dafydd and Regina egged each other on. Sometimes, he would manage to pull ahead of her, but she would always gain on him again. As fine a Stallion as Arturias was, Sora was built for distance running. Regina ended up sprinting through the gates four lengths ahead of him, and he had to laugh when she cheered, throwing her arms up in the air as Sora skidded to a stop.

Dafydd leapt off Arturias and tossed the reins to a waiting groom, then strode over to Sora and helped Regina off the Panther- even though honestly, his help was superfluous because Sora stood much lower to the ground than a Horse did. Regina sighed in contentment, surprising Dafydd by laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Thank you," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I needed that."

To his great annoyance, he found himself unable to speak; his throat seemed to have swelled itself shut. He nodded dumbly, easing his arms around Regina's shoulders and marveling to himself; oh, this felt good.

He had been… well, not avoiding her company, he certainly couldn't do that. But he had been avoiding physical contact with her; avoiding putting himself in her line of sight, as a matter of fact. It had made perfect sense to him when he first decided on his plan; Regina was still wary and quiet around him, so he would keep to himself and allow her to regain her trust and ease in her own time. But with this terrible secret sitting like a rock in his heart, these emotions that he couldn't purge and wasn't sure he wanted to… his self-imposed exile from her was painful. So he treasured this breathless moment; these fleeting touches, the occasional shared glances, they were all he had to convince himself that someday, everything would be alright between them again.

"Your Highness!"

Regina and Dafydd broke apart at the harsh interruption, both whipping around to the stairs, from whence the voice had come. Mctwisp was standing there, his nose twitching agitatedly as he observed the pair of them.

"Her Majesty is waiting for you both in her study," Mctwisp said, giving them a disapproving look before hopping off.

Regina sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. Dafydd, noticing this, frowned.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm sure the Queen would understand if you needed time to yourself-"  
>"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her neck. "There's time for sleep later. Let's just get this over with first."<p>

Dafydd nodded his consent, and glanced behind him, motioning for the Deuces to dismount and relax before heading inside after Regina. They kept silent as they walked through the halls to the Queen's private study. Regina hesitated before the doors, knocking rather than simply barging in.

The door was answered by a tired-looking Lily. The cousins took one look at each other before stepping forward and embracing. Regina bit her lip worriedly as she hugged her cousin; Lily looked dampened and subdued, hardly the same person as the Lily she'd known before the Outlands.

"What's going on, Lily?" she asked softly, glancing into the room beyond.  
>"Mother will explain," Lily explained, stepping back and allowing Regina and Dafydd to enter.<p>

Mirana and Kalen, Alice and Tarrant, and Queen Lamia and King Shepherd of Snud were seated around a tea table; clearly their party had been going on for a while now. Lily sank gracefully into the seat she'd vacated, and Regina and Dafydd walked around the table to the two other free chairs.

"Hello, my Sugar Cube," Tarrant greeted his daughter with a happy smile. "Dafydd, my boy, don't try to slink off into the shadows, sit and have some tea."

Dafydd sat beside Regina with a chastened smile, resting his claymore against the table. As Tarrant examined his daughter and began mixing a tea for her, Regina turned her attention to the White Queen.

"Aunt Mirana, what's going on?" she asked, accepting a scone and some clotted cream from Alice. "What's this we were told about a new Keeper?"  
>"I'd like to know the same thing, Mirana," Lamia said curiously, her pleasantly plump face rapt with attention.<br>Mirana nodded, folding her hands on the table. "First of all, I would like to apologize to you all. It was wrong of me not to explain to you sooner, but… Well, with most of you… busy in the Outlands, shall we say… I really didn't want to have to explain more than once." Clearing her throat, Mirana helped herself to another cup of tea. "The same Day Regina was kidnapped, Absolem came to me and informed me that it was his time to Fade."

Her statement was met with a stunned silence. Absolem gone? It seemed inconceivable; how could Underland possibly go on without the crusty Butterfly who had seemed as old as the land Herself?

"Absolem bound me to secrecy," Mirana continued. "I believe he felt that if it were widely known that he were gone, and that we would be without guidance until the birth of the next Keeper, that we would all fall into a panic." She paused, smiling ruefully to herself. "I cannot say he was entirely wrong. When you were gone," she said, nodding to the Blue Royals, "I was frantic with worry. There was no way to keep an eye on your progress; no Absolem to reassure us, no Oraculum to tell us your fates. Had anything happened to you, I would have had no word, no way of knowing. It was… excruciating," she said, her eyes lowering.

Regina glanced at Lily, who shifted uneasily in her seat and lowered her own eyes. Regina hadn't seen anything of her cousin in the past two weeks; Nerissa had told Regina that Lily was being punished for her disobedience in running away to Regina's rescue by having to stand guard over something in Mirana's office. Could that have something to do with the new Keeper, Regina wondered?

"When Absolem Faded, an Egg remained," Mirana picked up her tale. "I, and Lily when she returned home, have kept it safe. It hatched this morning, and the new Keeper has requested that we all gather together so she can… get a look at us, as she said."

Everyone around the tea table jumped as there was a sudden cloud of thick purple smoke and a soft _poof_ noise. When the smoke cleared, the Royals got their first look at Underland's new Keeper of the Oraculum.

She was a tiny, wizened old woman; from head to toe she stood no larger than Regina's index finger. Her hair was completely white, and hung loosely around her shoulders and down her back. She wore black breeches, a white poet's shirt, a red vest, and a matching red skirt partially tucked up into the waistband of her breeches; her feet were encased in tiny black ghillie shoes. The only sign that this tiny woman had ever been Absolem was the tattoo on the right side of her face; blue swirls and curlicues that formed the markings of a butterfly's wing across her forehead and down her cheek.

"Everyone, this is Zhithene," Mirana introduced the Keeper.

Zhithene turned in a circle, regarding everyone seated at the table. She had a crafty, calculating look on her face, and Regina got the distinct impression that she was being judged. The thought made her want to squirm, but she held herself still, forcing herself to return the tiny old woman's gaze.

"Ah," Zhithene said in satisfaction, turning her head back and forth from Lily and Regina. "The Queens-That-Shall-Be. Let me get a look at you. The Crown-Keeper and the Once and Future Queen. Yes, yes, you shall do, I think."

Lily and Regina's gazes met over Zhithene's head, each wearing an identical expression of confusion. What on earth could those titles mean? Zhithene, however, didn't appear inclined to illuminate them; she was still inspecting the people gathered around the table.

"The White Queen and the Lordly King, very good," Zhithene declared, before turning to take in the Russet Royals of Snud. "The Earthbound Queen and her Consort. Don't worry, Lamia, Snud isn't Fated to fall to ruin just yet. You and Alice still have much work to do together." Nodding, Zhithene turned her attention to the Blue Royals. "The Hatter King and the Dreaming Queen… no Sky Prince as yet, I see. Well, there's time yet. Not much time, mind, but time enough, I suppose."

Alice and Tarrant exchanged surprised glances, and Regina wasn't ashamed to admit that she was relieved to see her parents as confused by this new Keeper as she was. Zhithene's attention returned to Regina, and the tiny wizened woman frowned, one hand on her hip.

"No Prince of the Promise? Well, I suppose that makes sense, but he's so very important! You must promise me he won't be late," she scowled at Regina. "His grandmam is always late, I won't hear of that trait being passed down."  
>Flustered, Regina glanced around the table, before returning her gaze to Zhithene. "Um… I…"<br>"Oh, never mind, it's not your decision when he comes anyways," Zhithene shrugged, before her frown deepened. "But you're not all here. Where is the Littlest Queen? Why does the Lionheart King not proclaim his intentions and leave his pili pala to play the game of thrones alone? What detains and distracts the Peacekeeping King? And where hides the Puppetmaster?"

She looked around at all of them, taking in their utterly confused faces with growing impatience.

"Oh for goodness' sake," she muttered. "Mirana, a hookah, if you please."  
>"Of course," Mirana murmured.<p>

The White Queen gracefully stood and flitted to her desk, withdrawing a miniature hookah from a desk drawer. As she brought it back to the table, Regina could see that the hookah had once belonged to Absolem. Mirana seated herself again and prepared the hookah for the Keeper with quick, sure movements.

Zhithene eagerly snatched up the wand, drawing a deep breath of smoke into her veins. "Ah," she sighed as she exhaled. "That's better."

She smoked on, oblivious to the amused glances exchanged around the table. Apparently, more of Absolem lived on in this new Keeper than just the shadow of a butterfly tattoo… After several more puffs, Zhithene drew an impossibly deep drag of smoke, blowing it out in concentric smoke rings. Everyone around the tea table stared avidly as the smoke began to cluster in the shape of a cocoon. Humming to herself, Zhithene blew out one final smoke ring, which gently swept all the smoke away to reveal a small, brown, drawstring bag. Bending, Zhithene retrieved the bag and opened it, sliding a deck of cards into her hands.

"Tarot cards!" Regina exclaimed, leaning closer to get a better look at them.  
>"The new Oraculum," Zhithene nodded. "More compact than the last, don't you think? Don't know what Absolem was on about, carting that huge cumbersome scroll about. Cards are much more portable."<p>

Seating herself pretzel-style on the table, Zhithene began to arrange the cards in an intricate pattern. Five in the shape of a pentacle, and around each point of the star she clustered other cards; here two, there three, even four in one case. Inside the pentagram she arranged three other cards, hemming and hawing in concentration all the while.

"My my, this is quite the interesting spread," Zhithene said, sitting back when she'd arranged the cards to her satisfaction. "So much work to be done!"  
>"I don't understand," Regina frowned, looking down at the cards.<br>"Do you not, little Queenling?" Zhithene asked, looking highly amused. "It's quite simple. Why, nearly all the pieces of the chess set are ready to make their moves!" She looked up at them all, a faint smirk on her face. "Shall I tell you what the Oraculum predicts, then?" she asked.

She drew a deep lungful of smoke, exhaling it slowly as she spoke, her voice sounding deeper, echoing with the infinite possibilities of the future.

"For Crims, I see the Queen of Cups, the Eight of Wands, the Reversed Six of Cups, and the Reversed Wheel of Fortune. Leaving aside all the small details, for then we'd be here all night, I can tell you that Crims is due for a new beginning and a great prosperity. However, the coming of the little Prince may throw everything into a tizzy- particularly for the Lionheart."

Dafydd and Regina exchanged glances. She looked dumbstruck; he was clearly scrambling to hide the depth of his reaction to this news. Crims had no Prince; Regina had no King. And yet, Zhithene had just predicted… had just confirmed…

Dafydd swallowed hard as Regina blushed, her gaze falling to study her teacup. He'd always known that she was never meant for him, of course, but to have it confirmed like that, for Zhithene to so bluntly state that there was a son in her near future… What place was there for him, in this future? How could he stand to watch another man with the woman he loved? _Lionheart King_… For Fates' sake, did that mean that Leferidae's flirtations were more serious than he'd thought? Was he due to become the King of Crims, to take everything from Dafydd?

Zhithene, blithely ignoring the young couple's reactions, turned to face the White Royals. "Marmoreal's spread is the Two of Swords, the Reversed Two of Cups, the Hermit, the Reversed Five of Swords, and the Reversed Emperor. For the current King and Queen, I see a time of perfect harmony- perhaps too much peace. As for the future King and Queen, they have much personal growth ahead of them. A painful time for them both, a time of hard lessons and difficult questions. They have crossed through a desert, but there is still a long way to go before they find their way home."

Mirana and Kalen twined their fingers, looking complacent. Lily, though her face was trained to composure, revealed her tension in the set of her shoulders and her ramrod straight spine. There had not, as yet, been any talk of Lily marrying; Mirana had stated that there was no need to rush on that point. And anyways, who would Lily wed? There were no appropriate princes on this side of the Sea, and it had been a very long time since Underland had had any meaningful contact with the Overseas Kingdoms. Why should Lily have to worry about marrying? She had no need for a King; her parents were still alive and well, and showed no signs of Aging or abdicating.

Zhithene inhaled another lungful of smoke, exhaling it as she turned her attention to the Russets. "Snud's spread shows the King of Cups, the Reversed Four of Swords, and the Eight of Coins. A time of great prosperity. But be you careful that you do not become so focused on material success that you ignore impending danger. The dangers that affect all of Underland will have an affect upon you, as well, though you are not direct players in the game of thrones."

Alice and Lamia exchanged raised eyebrows and questioning glances. It was true, Snud usually wasn't involved in the workings of Underland at large; it had been so for generations. Especially since the war between Iracebeth and Mirana, Snud's importance had fallen very low on the priority list. Was that soon to change?

Zhithene turned her attention to the Blue Royals, smiling faintly to herself. "For Witzend, I drew the Reversed Ace of Wands, Reversed Temperance, the Page of Swords, and the Five of Coins. A happy spread. Like the other queendoms, a time of prosperity and new ventures. The Dreaming Queen's dreams will spread further than ever; the Hatter King will influence coming events far more than even he shall be aware, I think. In that, the Sky Prince will very much take after you, Tarrant. Quite a little bundle of chaos, you're due for."

Alice's cheeks flushed quite prettily, and a baffled smile grew on Tarrant's face. A Sky Prince? They had never discussed that probability; or at least, not for untold years… They had had dreams once, of course, but then Regina had disappeared and they had squandered so much Time… Was now the time to re-examine those dreams and plans, perhaps? Were they meant to take every last Second Chance they could find?

"But there is a larger spread, one which overshadows all your separate readings. The Fool, the Reversed World, and the Reversed Hierophant," Zhithene said thoughtfully, chewing meditatively on her hookah wand. "It concerns the coming of the Fool, the beginning of a new quest. Quite a fearful adversary, the Puppetmaster, but don't be deceived. The Fool represents a rare chance for a new beginning, the start of a new quest. All of you shall enter the journey, at one stage or another, and even though the fight truly only belongs to two, all will be affected by the outcome. You must all grasp at opportunities as soon as they arise, for if you do not, they will pass you by, and you will regret it."

She paused, her gaze searching each face above her. Dafydd shifted uneasily in her seat; this Keeper's gaze was far too focused and keen for his liking. As though she could see directly into his soul, read every secret he held so close, and found him very foolish for keeping so much to himself.

"Still, this is a great time for learning, and listening, and loving," Zhithene stated. "There will be marriages, and births, and quite a wonderful time for you all, if you can rise to the Fool's challenges."

Silence followed this foretelling. Perplexed glances were tossed from person to person as understanding dimmed and was overwhelmed by confusion. Zhithene, watching them all, smiled serenely.

"Well, I can't put it any plainer than that," she stated, thoughtfully biting her hookah wand. "However, you will see clearly soon enough. After all, the game is about to begin."

* * *

><p>Time was behaving oddly again. He galumphed like an awkward newborn Colt, in fits and starts; minutes after days post hours following seconds. Then she would turn and look at him, or touch his sleeve, or say his name. And Time would come to an abrupt halt, leaving him breathless and suspended, dependent on her for his next heartbeat. But he didn't mind the breathlessness and the lack of pulse; he hoarded those Time-less moments, those frozen instances where they managed to connect. He knew they would only last a moment; he would find her for an instant, and then lose her again, and the days would continue to slip past while they ran this Caucus race.<p>

It should have been driving him Mad, the fact that even Time was dependent on Regina. But he couldn't bring himself to mind. It was fitting, wasn't it, for Time to attach itself to the center of his universe, to run based on her movements and actions?

It had been almost five weeks; at least, that's what Ioan had told him. In reality it had been twenty-three touches, forty-eight Good Mornings, another forty-eight Good Nights, and roughly two hundred sixty-three glances. There had been one hundred thirty-seven cups of tea, nineteen frustrated groans, three precious, beautiful laughs and forty-eight smiles of different strengths and brilliances and durations that were just as priceless. He marked his days by her smiles; the day wasn't allowed to end until he'd managed to coax her lips upwards. Everything else was just a bonus, really.

They had returned to the Cerulean Castle after their introduction to the new Keeper. They had tried to carry on, to find normal again, to re-establish their routines. They'd had mixed success with that, honestly. How was it possible to return to normality? They were none of them the people who had lived that former normal life, and the more they tried to force themselves to normality the more it became apparent that their former lives now fit about as well as clothing three sizes too small. And as if the past wasn't enough to contend with, there was the future to consider. How could they make pretenses of normality, when that same normality was so soon to end? Very soon now, there would be no more Azure Princess residing in Witzend. They were about to craft themselves a new reality; how could they attempt to cling to the old version of reality that had been so determinedly swept aside? Yet how could they be faulted for trying to hold to the only version of reality they had known?

Dafydd sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose; all this thinking was doing nothing but giving him a headache. In any case, he had no spare Time to waste in thinking. Time, with his uneven galumphing, had lurched ahead so far as to abruptly fling them right into the very night before Regina's Queenmaking. The new castle had been completed with more speed than Dafydd had thought possible, and within two days of its completion it had been filled near to bursting with members of the Court and their possessions. Dafydd and Regina had overseen the packing of all their possessions, and had officially moved into their chambers three days ago. They had been closely followed by three sets of Royals and all their various attendants, all of whom had come to see the Queenmaking. Dafydd was frankly surprised that they weren't flowing out of the doors and over the walls like so much water bursting through a dam.

And tomorrow, Regina would be made Queen of Crims. Dafydd honestly had no idea what the process of the Queenmaking Ritual entailed; he knew only that as her Champion-To-Be, he was one of the only four people permitted to be in the chamber when it happened. He thought his presence was entirely superfluous; this was, after all, perhaps the only thing he could not protect her from. And yet, when he mentioned that to Regina, she had turned pale, her eyes fading to the gray color he so hated to see.

"But you must be there," she had said, in a voice near to a whisper. "I need your strength, Dafydd; I can't do this without you. Swear you'll be there."

He had immediately sworn, of course. And even though he couldn't follow her through the ritual or the trial she would undergo, he had ordered a silver ring with an amethyst jade stone made for her. If he couldn't stand beside her, she could at least wear this piece of him and keep it with her as she underwent her test.

Dafydd sighed wearily as he closed the door behind him and walked into his suite of chambers. With an impatient motion he dismissed the servants; he didn't much care for being waited on, and he had no mind to deal with the chattering, tittering bed women or the stuffy chamberlains. He'd been surrounded by people all day long; if he didn't get some solitude he was going to scream.

Once the servants had left, Dafydd crossed into the bathing room, groaning softly as he squatted beside his tub and fiddled with the knobs to start the flow of hot water. While he waited for the tub to fill, he wandered out into the main room, tilting his head and listening; he could just barely hear the sounds of movement and the murmur of voices in the rooms next door. Good, Regina was finally retiring for the night. He would check on her after he'd bathed, he decided; make sure that she was settling down and going to sleep. As Champion, especially to a White Queen, it was his right and duty to take the adjoining chamber to Regina's, so that he could be with her at a moment's notice should he need to be.

Still, it was far removed from sleeping at the foot of her bed. He'd not slept in the same room as Regina since their return from the Outlands. He couldn't very well expect after whatever it was he'd said or done to her that she would feel comfortable allowing him so close. But he missed her; missed seeing her tiny form curled up in the blankets like a kitten, missed her soft breathing and the way she mumbled in her sleep. He'd held conversations with her on more than one occasion, when insomnia plagued him and he could think of nothing else to do than watch her…

But, those days were done. Or at least, out of his reach for the foreseeable future. Until then, he had his own suite of rooms, his own oversized bed. He would stay in his rooms, she would stay in hers, and he would re-learn how to sleep without her. Maybe. Or maybe he was just doomed to insomnia and un-restful sleeps broken by frequent nightmares.

Shaking his head free of his thoughts, Dafydd returned to his tub, shutting off the tap and stripping down before easing into the tub, wincing at the slightly-too-hot water. He sank down into the water, resting his arms on the sides of the tub as he tilted his head back to rest against the edge.

He closed his eyes against the ugly colors which he knew would leach out of him and into the bathwater. He was grateful that the water could somehow draw out his emotions, that he could purge them and be tormented by them no longer; but at the same time it seemed pointless. There would always be more emotions to replace those he'd let go of, and most of them, it seemed, would be these same painful ones.

He turned his head to the side, his eyes fixing on his abandoned breeches. Lazily, he leaned out of the tub, digging about in his pocket for the small rock which hadn't left his person once in the two months since he'd found it.

A Heart Rock. An honest to Absolem Heart Rock. He still, after two months, couldn't fully believe that he'd found one. It was a custom among his people; exactly where the tradition had come from, he didn't know. Maybe someday, he'd ask Tarrant if the Hightopps had a similar custom… It was part of a couple's courting. If the boy truly wanted to marry the girl, he was sent into the deserts of the Outlands, there to remain until he had found a rock in the shape of a heart. Emotions were so fluid, so prone to change. But the rock would never lose its size or its shape; the rock was a promise that the boy's affections would remain just as true as the stone. When he'd found his Heart Rock, he had to return home and present it to the girl he loved; if she accepted his Heart, they were wed.

And he had found just such a rock, though in his Madness he had pushed Regina away…

He rolled the rock between his fingers, considering. Was it right that he had this? After all, Zhithene had stated with painful clarity that a child lay in Regina's future. So she was soon to be married to one called the Lionheart, and she would be forever beyond his reach. And if he could never give her this Heart Rock, this declaration and physical symbol of his love, was it right that he should hold it? What if some other clansmen should need a Heart Rock, and couldn't find it, because Dafydd had taken it? But contrariwise, Dafydd had found this rock. If some other former Nazari should need a Heart Rock, Underland would provide one for him, even as She'd done for Dafydd, when he had no hope of completing the ritual.

No, he would keep this. He was about to lose Regina- to her crown, to Crims, to whatever lucky Lionhearted bastard was about to step forth and claim her as his wife and as the mother to his son. Let Dafydd keep this one thing for himself.

He closed his fist around the tiny Heart Rock as someone knocked on the door. "What is it?" he snapped.  
>The door opened to reveal his chamberlain, Stuffins, who dipped him a shallow bow. "Apologies, sir," Stuffins drawled in his nasal voice. "The Queen-To-Be has requested your attendance in her chamber."<p>

Dafydd nodded silently, waving the man away to… buttle, or whatever it was butlers did. Dafydd hauled himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel on his way out and leaving his ruminations along with his emotions in the bath. His solitary moaning and angsting could wait until tonight, when he faced another night sleeping alone; for right now, Regina wanted him, and he would obey.

* * *

><p>Sleep had not been kind lately. As a matter of fact, Sleep had been downright cruel.<p>

In the weeks since returning from the Outlands, Regina hadn't slept more than four hours in a night, and never more than an hour at a time. She slept in fits and starts, fearing to sleep for knowing the nightmares that would plague her. And yet, simply laying in bed made her restless and irritable. Nearly every night she had been tempted to call for Dafydd, and for a bottle of strong dandelion wine; but no. No, let Dafydd sleep. Very soon, she would be made a White Queen, and he would have precious little time to relax his vigilance. For now, let him rest.

On this, the night before her Queenmaking, Regina wasn't even bothering to pretend that she might sleep. No, she was well aware that there was no sleep for her tonight. She had kept vigil the night before she became a Princess, too, she remembered; she had sat on her balcony in Marmoreal and watched the sun rise, and when dawn had come she went out to slay Stayne and take her place as the Azure Princess. There was no more slaying in her future, but it was somehow fitting that she should keep vigil, this night before she became a Queen.

She'd asked Dafydd to join her for supper. They hadn't had very much time alone in the last two months; always they'd been surrounded by people, and had to be Princess and Champion. Now, though, there was no one to disturb them; they could spend the entire winter night sitting up together, and no one could say a word.

Neither of them ate much, but they took their time at the table. Even when the meal was over, they hadn't gone to their separate beds; Dafydd had dragged a sofa to the balcony doors, and here they sat, each holding a goblet of dandelion wine. Regina knew that they should take care; they could not always turn to wine to distance themselves from their problems. She had heard stories, in London, of men who were always drunk and became volatile and abusive, of women who lost their beauty and their wits to ever-deeper glasses of blue ruin. Regina had no desire to lose herself to that particular brand of madness. But for right now, it was a balm; Peace in a bottle, more effective even than the Doctor's medicines. She had great need of the peace the wine afforded her; there was much she needed to say.

"When I woke up, in the Outlands," she began, her voice quiet and hesitant, "I found I was tethered to a desk. Niall was there, and Taran, and other men whose names I never heard. They were discussing the best way to… dispose of me."

She paused, taking a long sip of the wine, and while she didn't look at Dafydd she was carefully gauging his reaction. They hadn't talked about the Outlands yet; all mention of their misadventures was carefully avoided. She still didn't know exactly what had happened to Dafydd, or how her parents had reconciled; nor did she know what had befallen Lily and Ioan, that they were now at such odds when before they had been friends. And Dafydd didn't know what she had been through, what she had done. She feared his reaction to the tale she was about to tell, and yet she couldn't undergo her Queenmaking without him knowing. She had to tell him everything; if he decided that he did, indeed, hate her for killing his cousin, he deserved the chance to be rid of her before he was trapped by the Champion's Vow.

He didn't look at her; his eyes remained on the brightly shining stars. But he hadn't drawn a sharp inhalation, or tensed; he still seemed calm. A slight nod was the only response he gave, but so far so good.

"They debated whether to hold me for ransom, to force my parents to abdicate, or to send me back to the Aboveground. Or that maybe they would…" She cleared her throat, blushing, as she stared down into her wine. "They'd marry me to y-… to someone within the clan, to legitimize their hold on Tearmunn."

Oh goodness, her cheeks felt as though they were on fire! She knew it was often done in the Aboveground; marrying to cement ties of alliance. Indeed, that was how nearly all royal marriages came about in the Above. Dafydd was something of a Prince among his- now their- people, and she was a Princess. It wasn't so unthinkable that they should be married, even now, to further cement the ties between the new Hightopps and their homeland.

Oh, why was she torturing herself with thoughts of marriage? Alright yes, when Zhithene had told Regina that she was to bear a son, she had thought… had hoped… Niall had said that a Queen's Ace became her husband if she didn't find a King to suit her, hadn't he? But those dreams were foolish. Maybe Dafydd didn't hate her, but neither did he love her. Other than that moment of Madness on the Brae, he had never once looked at her in a way that indicated love, or given any sign whatsoever that he thought of her as anything but his Queen. He would resent an arranged marriage, she was sure, and she couldn't force him into something like that simply because she wanted him for herself.

No, she had already stolen enough of his life, by accepting his promise to become her Champion; she would let go of her love for him. He deserved a life outside of his Vows to her; she wouldn't tie him to her in every possible way, simply because she'd lost her heart to him. And anyways, didn't he have a Betrothed somewhere among the clan? Afanen, wasn't it? Why on earth was she imagining his kiss had meant anything, when he'd already been Promised to another woman? She would have to bring the woman to her Court, she supposed; it wasn't right to separate Dafydd from the woman he loved… She winced. Oh, that would drive a knife right through her heart, to watch Dafydd wed another woman. But how could she do anything else? Yes, Afanen would have to have a place at Court, and Regina would see them married; it was only right.

Shaking her head slightly to free it of her thoughts, she continued. "Eventually they decided to just kill me and have done with it. I… didn't help myself there very much," she admitted. "I lost my temper a little."

She glanced at Dafydd out of the corner of her eye, and a small answering smile graced her face when she saw one corner of his mouth quirk up in amusement. But still he didn't speak, and for that Regina thanked him; if he interrupted her, she wasn't sure she would ever be able to finish this tale, and she had to tell it to its completion. Biting her lip, she tucked her legs beneath her, sitting with her back against the armrest. She still couldn't look at Dafydd, so she lowered her gaze to her wine goblet, playing with the heavy chalice as she spoke.

"They left me alone, all that night. I thought… I hoped that if I could just find a way to get free, I could find my way back to Underland. I knew you would be coming, and Da… I wanted it all to be over before a war erupted." She swallowed thickly, sighing; that plan hadn't gone so well. "Morning came, and Taran came to take me away. They didn't tell me whether it would be poison or a knife or being ripped to pieces by wild animals, and I didn't ask. We got to the gorge, and…"

She swallowed hard, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered. Fast; it had all gone so very fast. From the moment she tackled Taran until the moment she sat straddled over him, his blood slick on her hands, it was all jumbled together in a blur.

Dafydd swallowed hard, hesitantly reaching forward to wipe away her tears. "You don't have to tell me…"  
>She shook her head; she <em>did<em> have to tell him, or she'd never find peace. "I killed him," she confessed. "I… suppose it hardly matters how. But it was quick," she added, a hint of desperation in her voice. "I didn't torture him."  
>"I know, dearbadan-de," Dafydd said softly, his hand cradling her face. "I know you didn't."<br>"I'm sorry, Dafydd," she whispered thickly, hardly able to see him through the tears that poured from her eyes. "He was your cousin, and I… I'm so sorry."

He drew her into his arms and she didn't resist; she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobbed. She cried for the blood she'd spilled, for the grief she'd brought to Taran's family, for her own lost innocence and for the guilt that sat so heavily in her heart.

When she'd finally stopped crying, Dafydd refilled both their goblets. Regina took it gratefully, drinking it all down in long swallows. She sighed in relief as she felt the wine warming her, and her head going fuzzy; oh, this was better. Closing her eyes wearily, she laid her head on Dafydd's shoulder, curling into his warmth like a kitten.

"I had to tell you, before tomorrow," she murmured, surreptitiously breathing in his scent. "So in case you were still mad at me you could back out before you made the Vow."

He squeezed her shoulder, as though he could pull her further into himself. Fighting back the impulse to lean down and kiss the top of her head, he forced himself to speak.

"I've made my choice, Regina," he said softly, staring up at the stars for fear of what she might be able to read in his eyes. "I'm not leaving you."

He felt more than heard her sigh; felt her releasing her tension and sinking into him. Did she really fear him leaving her so much? How had he become so important to her? Was he worthy of the trust she placed in him? She didn't even know what he'd done… Well, she'd trusted him with what was clearly a very painful story for her; it was only fair that he do the same. She had left herself open to the possibility that he would leave her; now it was his turn.

"We were… I was frantic, when I realized you were gone," he began, closing his eyes against the terror that even now woke him from a dead sleep, fighting to remind himself that Regina was here, safe in his arms and blessedly, wonderfully alive. "We had no idea, at first, who had taken you or why, or if you were even still alive. Then we found Taran's clan marker, strung around a scrap of your dress."

He absently pulled his own marker out from beneath his shirt, his fingers idly running over the button. It was painted black, with a diamond pattern of undyed metal pressed into it. It had been given to him the day he was born, as every member of the clan received one. Would this tradition continue, now that they were home? Did the Hightopps have their own customs and traditions for clan identity?

His fingers stilled as Regina hesitantly brushed her fingers against the button, playing with it almost as a small child might do. Could she feel how hard his heart was pounding? Did she have any idea the effect she had on him?

"Clan markers?" Regina asked curiously, running her thumb along the button.  
>Dafydd nodded. "I forget the history. Something about the first Hightopp laird to come to these shores was obsessed with them, called all his children his buttons, so now we wear them in token of still being his children."<p>

Regina nodded quietly, her hand falling away to rest on his abdomen. Drawing a breath to keep himself calm and under control, he carried on with his tale. Did it count as a confession if she was drunk and falling asleep? Would she remember in the morning?

"Alice came tearing to the Brae, screeching like a JubJub bird," he picked up his tale, smiling faintly as Regina giggled. "Said she was coming with us to the Outlands, gave no one any chance to tell her no."  
>"Sounds like my mother," Regina agreed.<br>"We rode over the Mountains as quick as we could- which wasn't very fast," Dafydd said ruefully. "Alice and Tarrant argued in the middle of the night, and she struck out on her own to try to get to you more quickly. Tarrant and I waited until dawn."

He glanced down at Regina; her face was thoughtful. He knew that she and Alice had reconciled their differences [finally and to Tarrant's very great joy], but he had no idea if she'd heard her parents' version of events. Was Regina aware that her mother had come to the Outlands for her?

"I hadn't known that," Regina said quietly, as if she'd heard his thoughts. "I'll have to ask her about it."  
>"When we got back to my clan, Niall told us that you…" His throat tightened, and for a moment he struggled against the remembered pain. "He said you were dead. I don't… I don't remember much, after that," he admitted. "I went Mad. Tarrant tells me that I hatched a plot to have the Council recognize Tarrant as clan laird, and I've been told there was a battle on Tearmunn, but… I don't remember, except for… There's one thing I do remember doing." He drew a deep breath, and then forced himself to speak his shameful secret. "I… I killed my brother."<p>

Regina stirred, drawing a breath and looking up at him. She looked up at him and he could see the words crawling up her throat, but she bit her lip and kept silent, letting him speak. Dafydd's gaze fell to his lap; he wasn't sure he could confess this to her. But he'd come this far; he couldn't leave the rest unconfessed.

"I didn't mean to," he said helplessly. "I was just trying to get him away from you, but his sword… I wasn't… that's a lie," he whispered, dropping his head as the tears began despite his best effort to keep them back. "He was attacking you; I couldn't let him. I knew what I was doing. I wanted him pinned down and neutralized, and I…"

He covered his face with his hands, hunched over and shaking with the suppressed sobs. Now he was the one collapsing into Regina's embrace, and she the strong one holding him together, caressing his back and hair as though he were an infant.

As before when it had been her turn, when he'd finished crying himself out they didn't speak. Regina simply leaned over him and grabbed the bottle of wine, emptying it into their goblets. He wiped his face on his sleeve, embarrassed that she'd had to witness his weakness; but she didn't seem to think the less of him for it. And though he hated that he'd revealed so much weakness to her, he didn't shrug her hand off his back, nor protest when she tucked herself back into his side.

"I used to love the sunrise," Regina said softly, looking up into the dark night sky. "Before. Another dawn, a new day with new adventures… It mocks me, now," she continued, looking down at her hands. "The sun always dawns red for me. And every morning, I wake up knowing that I'm seeing the sun rise only because I took away Taran's chance to see it. I see red in the sun, and every night I watch blood leach out of my hands into the bath water. No matter how often I wash them, they'll never be clean."

Dafydd caught up her hands, gently forcing her fingers open and placing soft kisses on each palm. She shivered, her skin rising in gooseflesh, and though he was pleased with her reaction- maybe it meant she wasn't as oblivious to him as he'd thought- he was still aware of how her guilt and tension were thrumming through her muscles, coiling her tighter than a spring.

"I don't know how to live with this guilt," she admitted in a whisper. "It wasn't like this, with Stayne. I knew he was dead, I knew I had killed him, but I thought it was justified. He was going to destroy everything, kill everyone I loved. But Taran… he was just trying to come home, and I… I took that from him…"

Her head bowed, and a solitary tear fell down her face. Dafydd laced his fingers with hers, sharing her guilt.

"There are people in the Outlands, who believe that to murder someone is to split your own soul," he said, his voice no louder than hers had been. "That part of you dies with the one you kill."

Regina nodded, clearly understanding the sentiment. Dafydd wished he could find some words of comfort, anything to ease her grief over what she'd done. But he had no such words for her; Fates, he was in need of those same words himself. Could there be any consolation for what they'd done? True, they had each killed in self-defense, but was it right for them to have their lives because they'd ended two others?

"Mama tells me there was nothing else to be done," Regina said, her voice small as she determinedly stared at their interwoven fingers. "That they wouldn't have stopped until we were dead. That someone had to die for it all to end. But I don't know if that makes it right."  
>"I don't know," Dafydd shook his head. "I don't think we'll ever know."<br>"So… what now?" Regina asked. "I know we can't ever go back to how things were before, but… what do we do?"

Dafydd swallowed hard; ah. The eternal question, the one that very likely had no answer.

"We go on," he said after a long moment. "We wait for the sunrise. We try to enjoy the days we've been given, since we had to do such terrible things to earn them."

He said nothing else; there was nothing more to be said. Regina said nothing either; she simply sighed softly and curled into his side. Neither spoke, and very soon Regina's eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted off to sleep.

Dafydd knew he should carry her to her bed, let her sleep in peace. He should be checking in with the Fearail, making final preparations for tomorrow. But he couldn't bring himself to break the silence. Regina held him spellbound; he was trapped by her scent and her warmth and her tiny hand clenched around a fold of his shirt, as though she feared him leaving her alone. Leave? How could he leave her? He couldn't leave her, not when she meant life…

Carefully, he shifted them, easing them down until they were both reclining semi-comfortably on the sofa. Tomorrow she might retreat again, might withdraw the trust she was displaying, but for this moment they were alright again, and he wasn't about to give that up. Tonight, perhaps they might find peace. Even if not, at least they were together in their grief. Checking to be sure his claymore was within easy reach, he wrapped his arms around her- for warmth, of course- and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Sleep, ma taavi," he whispered, a dim memory floating through his mind of his father saying these words to him. "Sleep and know that I'll protect you from even your dreams."

* * *

><p><strong>Language Note<strong>: Ma taavi is Welsh for 'my beloved.'


	12. The Queenmaking

**Author's Note**: Well, here we are at the end of Book Two. As much trouble as writing this Book gave me and as much trouble was added during editing, I'm sad to see this part end.

I actually don't have very much to say about this chapter, other than that the last scene was written to purposefully mirror the ending of Book One. So no, that's not déjà vu on your part, it's me being not very subtle with my character development.

Don't forget, just because we've reached the end of Book Two that doesn't mean this story is over. Stay tuned for half a dozen or so chapters that will be posted in _The Wonderland Chronicles: Between the Pages_. As was the case last time, there's not that much plot advancement in these upcoming chapters; they're more devoted to character development. Part three of this series is entitled _Trials of the Plum Queen_. I make no guarantees for when it will be out, but hopefully shortly. Until then, this is _Rescue from the Outlands_, signing off.

**Costuming Note**: Yes, I did go a bit overboard. Oh well. Remove all spaces.

Dafydd's ring for Regina: dyn- images 2. hsni is/ image/ HomeShoppingNetwork/ 178567 ? $ pd 300 $  
>Front view of the dress [but purple, not white]: www. craftster pictures data/ 500/ medium/ 37479_ Titania. jpg  
>Back view of the dress: s4. hubimg u 886623_ f496. jpg  
>Crown [but with amythests]: speedy. theanneboleynfiles wp-content uploads/ 2011/ 08/ gemstone_ tiara. jpg

For her coronation ball, Regina changes into this.

Dress: 4. bp. blogspot _ FW86_ jO7k_ A/ SczK34jqfBI/ AAAAAAAA7To/ H25kGQsaFfE/ s1600/ Atelier_ Versace_ Spring_ 2009_ 4a. png  
>Jewelry [just imagine the earrings and bracelets to match this]: www. macklowegallery gallery N- 10165. jpg

**Special Thanks**: Oodles of thanks to my wonderful beta Ranguvar27 for all the hard work done for this Book!

* * *

><p>The Cave of Contingency was always a quiet place. Apart from the occasional drip, drip of water seeping down from the ceiling onto the ground, the only sounds came from the two Cats who resided in the Cave. Amazing, then, that although the Cave was so quiet, it was fairly throbbing with tension.<p>

The two Cheshire Cats sat opposite each other on the ground, between the pool of water and the pillar that supported the rip in the Veil. Neither moved, or even blinked; not even Chess' tail was flicking. They stared at each other, gazes unwavering. Chess' eyes were narrowed in disapproval; Witzend remained firmly unrepentant. They were clearly at an impasse, and Underland only knew how the deadlock would be resolved.

When the Cheshire Cat entered the Cave two months ago to find it devoid of his grandkitten, he had only needed the quickest glimpse through the Veil to determine what she had done. He had huffed in agitation; how many times had he told her not to get involved? Cheshire Cats knew all possible outcomes, but it wasn't for them to determine which outcome came to pass. They might occasionally aid a pawn along their path, but they never dictated which path would be taken.

And yet, what had his meddlesome protégé done? She had determined events. Not only for Princess Lily and young Ioan, although her involvement in Lily's future was bad enough. But she had masterminded that meeting in Iplam between Dafydd and Regina, as well. She had been the one to decide that they should be alone when they met, and because of that, a whole host of possibilities would never come to fruition now. Not only that, but because of that kiss- which otherwise might not have happened- what had once been a Flux point was rapidly becoming Fixed.

How much in Underland would change, because Witzend had decided that single Possibility had to become Fact? Had she thought this through, considered every extenuating circumstance that might arise because of this change to the fabric of fate? And if that point became Fixed, what would that mean for Witzend's precious Regina? It could make her life many times more complicated than it otherwise would have been; it would likely bring Regina further grief and pain. Could Witzend live with the consequences of what she'd done?

And yet, when he'd pointed all of this out, Witzend had remained steadfast in her defense of her actions.

"It's not enough to know what's going to unfold," she had argued. "You have to make it come about. That's true Guardianship, guiding Underland to its best possible future."

It was a fine and worthy goal, he was fully willing to readily admit that. But did she truly believe that Fixing Regina's future in this manner was bringing about Underland's best possible future? Or was she merely giving her former mistress what she wanted, simply because she felt obligated to Regina?

He couldn't be sure. And he had run out of Time to evaluate and make up his mind. The Spirit of Underland was waiting; it was Time.

"I can see you're going to be a very different kind of Cheshire," he purred finally, breaking their gaze to look her over.

Fates, she was young; so very young to take this burden on her back. Perhaps she was too young. But what could he do about it? Hadn't he been just as young, when he took over these duties from his aunt? Underland ever belonged to the young, and he was not young anymore.

"It's going to be a very different kind of Underland soon," Witzend replied evenly, her eyes alight with her conviction.  
>"Indeed," Chesh murmured.<p>

He had no doubt of what Witzend was saying; he'd seen the evidence with his own eyes. The Underland Chess had known was Fading away, piece by piece. Absolem's Fading was only the most visible sign; it was there in other ways. A new generation of Rulers was quickly growing up; soon it would be their turn. It had begun when Alice returned and slew the Jabberwock; it would end… when? Perhaps it would never end; perhaps it had never begun. Perhaps they had always been changing, and perhaps they always would.

Still, it was almost a relief to know that he no longer had to worry about the changes, no longer had to watch all the possibilities and wait for the players to make their moves. As Witzend had said, it was going to be a very different kind of Underland; perhaps it was for the best that she was going to be the one to watch over it.

He nodded slowly; it was Time.

"Before you go..." Witzend said hesitantly, shifting her weight from side to side.

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head. His grandkitten was normally very outspoken and opinionated; it was rare that she tripped over her own tongue. What could she have to say that would leave her so nervous? Witzend cleared her throat, sitting up straighter.

"I just wanted to say… thank you," she said, inclining her head.  
>"I?" Chess asked, his eyebrow hiking up further. "I did nothing. You chose your own path; I simply watched you walk it."<p>

A faint grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. An answering grin curled up his own lips, as one eyelid slowly dropped in a wink.

Their gazes locked once again as Chess slowly began to disappear. First his body, leaving only his head and stripes. Then the stripes began to unwind like so many ribbons, and they faded away. Then his head, leaving only his eyes and his grin. Then his eyes vanished, leaving only the famous Cheshire grin. Though she had tried to remain quiet and respectful during this process, at this moment Witzend simply couldn't stop herself from quoting Alice.

"Well! I've often seen a cat without a grin. But a grin without a cat! It's the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!"

Witzend drew a slow breath as Chess' grin disappeared. Nothing visible remained, but suddenly a chill surrounded her, as though she'd been plunged into a fog. There was a soft whoosh, a sudden sucking sensation… And then she shook herself out, blinking down at her body. She was still gray, but her white stripes had turned ice blue. And she felt… looser, less substantial; more like whatever it was that made up Time. She exhaled slowly, getting used to the feeling. Was this how her grandsire had felt all the time? Oh, and her head; it felt like it had been blown up like a balloon, comically large, large enough for Time to have enough room to roam around. Well, this would take some getting used to.

"Right," she muttered to herself. "Might as well begin at once."

With a flick of her tail, the new Cheshire Cat transported herself to the crack in the Veil. Settling herself before the crack, she fixed her attention on Time, and began to watch.

* * *

><p>Tarrant had been doing a lot of hiding lately.<p>

He spent long hours in his workshop in the Cerulean Castle, trying to escape his thoughts in the haze of creative Madness. But more often than not, his fingers simply would not obey him; he would begin shaping a hat only to set it down, fiddle with ribbons only to get them hopelessly snarled. The state of his hands weren't to be commented upon; if there was a solitary square inch he hadn't burned, bruised, or snicked with his scissors, he couldn't find it. Alice was decidedly less than pleased with him, although she had very patiently tended to his poor, abused digits.

When Haberdashery had failed, Tarrant had retreated into the study which, though long reserved for his use, was rarely used. He sat down in his leather armchair and listlessly flipped through the pages of his books, unable to make heads or tails of the words on the paper. The silence in the study had bothered him; it wasn't a comfortable sort of silence, like the quiet in his workshop. This was a heavy, brooding silence, absolutely terrible for trying to escape his thoughts. This was a silence for embracing one's brooding, and Tarrant was in absolutely no mood to do that.

He had tried taking Windmare for long rides, and that had actually worked for a while. But he could only be gone for so long before he started to worry Alice and Regina, and he'd promised himself that he wouldn't worry his family with his behavior. So he had smiled and assured his wife and daughter that he was perfectly well, and he had poured them cups of tea and redirected their attention to other matters.

There was nowhere to hide, now. He and Alice had arrived in Crims three days ago. While Alice had immediately gone to Regina to help her make the final preparations for her Queenmaking, Tarrant had hung back, still trying futilely to escape his own mind.

Sighing heavily, Tarrant leaned back in his armchair, listlessly swishing his lukewarm tea around in his cup. Alice had woken up even earlier than usual; she had been dressed and rushing out the door before the sun had even fully risen. Today was Regina's Queenmaking, and Alice was all in a tizzy of excitement about her daughter finally taking her throne.

Tarrant couldn't be quite so enthusiastic. Of course he was happy for his daughter; this was her Fate, and he was sure she would be a wonderful Queen. But he couldn't quite forget the fact that she was becoming the Queen of Crims, taking the title of his greatest enemy. Iracebeth represented the worst and darkest times of his life, and he didn't like the fact that his daughter was becoming part of that legacy.

But even if she weren't about to become the Queen of Hearts, Tarrant would still be upset at the fact that he was losing his only child. She had only been restored to him six months ago, and now he already had to let her go again. She couldn't be his wee little boy anymore; she had her own path to walk now.

He stirred at a knock on the door. At his absent call, the door opened to reveal Dafydd. Tarrant observed the younger man as he walked into the room. Regina wasn't the only one who had been changed by her experience in the Outlands, Tarrant thought; Dafydd had been scarred, as well. He didn't carry physical reminders, as Regina did, but he had the same haunted shadows in his eyes; the weight and guilt hid in his gaze and in the corners of his mouth.

"I rather thought you'd be with Regina this morning," Tarrant observed, motioning for Dafydd to have a seat while Tarrant poured him a cup of tea.

"Clover and Azalea pushed me out," Dafydd admitted, looking down at the table. "They said they had to get Regina ready and it was no place for me to be lurking."

Tarrant's lips quirked upwards in a smile. "Ah yes, women and their unnecessary beauty treatments. We might as well sit and drink this entire pot; we'll neither of us be allowed close."

Dafydd nodded, taking a long sip of his tea. While Tarrant kept his hands busy fixing himself a cup, he kept one eye on his daughter's Champion. Dafydd had come here for a reason, Tarrant knew, and it wasn't simply boredom. If Regina's maids had shooed him off, Dafydd could have gone to the Fearail and prepared them for their day, or he could have gone outside and taken out his frustrations on any of the training dummies. Dafydd had done that yesterday; Tarrant had watched from his window as the younger man tore the dummy to pieces, cursing and screaming the entire time. And yet, Dafydd had come here. No, the younger man had a specific purpose in mind for which he had sought Tarrant out. Tarrant knew that pushing the young man to reveal his purpose for being here would be counterproductive; Dafydd would speak his mind when he was ready and not a moment before. Ah well, Tarrant knew how to be patient; he could wait.

"I'm… I'm sure it's unnecessary to say this, but…" Dafydd swallowed before glancing up at Tarrant. "I can't be your heir in Tearmunn."  
>"Mmm," Tarrant murmured.<p>

He kept his composure, but Tarrant was exceedingly curious about what Dafydd was saying. It made sense that Dafydd could no longer be the next Laird of Iplam- no, it was Tearmunn now- but why had he brought it up?

"Regina's alive," Dafydd began.

Tarrant knew he should be focusing on what his young relative was saying. But he was distracted- fascinated, really- to see how much lighter Dafydd looked at that simple statement. It was as though the world couldn't be quite as bad as he thought, simply because Regina lived and breathed.

"As long as she's alive, she's your true heir. And…" Dafydd drew a breath, releasing it slowly. "She's taking the White Vow today."  
>"I see," Tarrant said.<p>

And he did see. He hadn't known his daughter had intended to take the White Vow, but if she did, Dafydd's task as Champion would become that much more difficult. He would never be able to leave her side; he would always have to be there to protect her. Not that either of them had any intention or desire to separate, Tarrant hastened to add to himself. Dafydd clearly worshipped the ground Regina walked on, and she considered him the sun in her sky. No, their place was together, and that couldn't happen if Dafydd was obliged to be in Tearmunn.

"I'm sure your family will be disappointed, my lad," Tarrant said, watching thoughtfully as Dafydd's face closed up again.

Ah. So there it was.

In the two months since the Battle of the Brae, Dafydd hadn't seen his family. Madam Gwynyth had taken charge of the building frenzy in Tearmunn, organizing the construction of the homes, stores, and necessities. Tarrant had traveled to Tearmunn for half of each week to meet with her and supervise. Dafydd, however, had been in Witzend with Regina. In the two months since the battle, he'd not returned to Tearmunn once. Ironic, really, considering how very badly Dafydd had wanted to return to his homeland.

Tarrant knew what Dafydd was doing, and he knew why the young man was hiding away from his family. But Tarrant was well aware that it was counterproductive. What had happened on the Brae was tragic; Tarrant couldn't imagine the amount of guilt Dafydd must be feeling. But hiding from his family and keeping his distance from those he loved couldn't be an appropriate answer either. Had Niall really been so beloved that Dafydd would be vilified and cast off from his family? As Tarrant understood it, Dafydd had been considered a hero of his people ever since he was old enough to wield a sword. Surely everyone in the clan knew that Dafydd had been Mad at the time of Niall's death, and surely they knew Dafydd had had no control over what happened. Didn't isolating himself away from those from whom he craved forgiveness send the wrong message- that Dafydd didn't care anything for his family, was abandoning them in order to follow Regina's star?

Still, it wasn't Tarrant's place to say anything. Yes, as Laird he could order Dafydd to return to Tearmunn, but what good would that do? It would deprive Regina of her Champion and rob Dafydd of the small amount of peace he'd won for himself. How could he betray Dafydd like that, after everything Dafydd had done for Tarrant and Regina?

"I understand," Tarrant nodded, catching the younger man's gaze. "Your place is with Regina."

Tarrant watched as Peace settled over Dafydd's face. He sighed in relief, nodding gratefully.

"Thank you," he said softly.

With an incline of his head, Dafydd stood and withdrew, leaving Tarrant to his thoughts. Alone once again, Tarrant returned to swishing the tea in his cup, a thoughtful look on his face.

He would be sorry to lose Dafydd as his heir; the boy was a proven leader in combat, and Tarrant was sure he had the makings of a fine ruler in peacetime as well. And he enjoyed the boy's company. Dafydd might be quiet and deferential, but he had a quick sense of humor and a sound helping of sense quite remarkable in a world this Mad.

Still, Dafydd's place wasn't in Tearmunn; it was in Crims, with Regina. And while Tarrant might frown at the idea of losing his daughter to the younger man [he might like Dafydd, but he was still an athair, and he still didn't like the idea of his little girl being alone in this castle with a young man and no one to supervise them], he also knew that there was no one in Underland he trusted with Regina more than Dafydd.

Despite it all, he was very happy that his daughter wouldn't be walking the path of Queendom alone. Now Tarrant had only to learn how to let his little girl go…

* * *

><p>It was the most important day of Regina's life, but she couldn't help but wish that it was still the night before. She had laid safe and warm in Dafydd's arms, cradled against his chest and sleeping peacefully for the first time since her return from the Outlands. Even when she'd woken in the pre-dawn light, she hadn't moved; she had lain perfectly still, watching Dafydd's sleeping face and wishing they never need leave this sofa. She had wanted to arrest the progressing dawn, freeze this moment and let it last an eternity.<p>

Alas, Clover had intruded on their solitude, bustling in and eyeing Regina and Dafydd askance as they sleepily sat up and disentangled themselves. She had chivvied Dafydd away, leading Regina into the bathroom to be readied for the sacrifice. Every bit of her had been scrubbed, cleaned, sluiced, sloughed, plucked, refined, perfected. Her nails had been buffed, every stray hair removed. Her ginger curls had been arranged in a soft yet complicated updo, soft curling tendrils escaping to frame her face and cascade down her back. And now, finally, Regina stood in the center of the room as Alice removed the protective sheet and revealed her Queenmaking gown.

"Oh," Regina gasped softly, her eyes wide with wonder.

The dress was a dream; Regina was sure that if she blinked, it would disappear. The gown was purple silk, with a fitted, corseted bodice, bare shoulders, and a long, flowing skirt with a generous train. Soft golden gauze floated over the skirt and formed the sleeves, and matching golden embroidery spiraled and curled its way over the bodice.

"Tarrant's outdone himself," Mirana smiled.  
>"It's so beautiful," Regina sighed.<p>

She stepped forward, walking as though balancing on a tightrope, and reached one hesitant finger forward to stroke the beautiful gown. Moments later, the silken confection whispered to the floor, and an instant after Regina stepped into it, she was being laced in. Slippers were placed on her feet, and she was ready. She stared at herself in the full-length mirror, scarcely able to believe her eyes. Was this her? She didn't recognize herself. She looked ethereal, beautiful, an image from a dream. Could she possibly be real?

Silently, Mirana dismissed Clover and Azalea. She motioned to Alice, and the two Queens withdrew, leaving Regina for a few moments before they descended to the foundation of the castle to enact the Queenmaking.

Regina stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes darting from place to place as she tried to maintain her composure. She could do this… she could do this, right? Oh Fates, she couldn't do this… She wasn't a Queen. She was barely even a Princess; she wasn't ready for this! She was going to fail, and Crims would fall to ruin and it would be all her fault…

"Breathe."

She gasped, jumping, but she relaxed as soon as she caught sight of Dafydd in the mirror. He must have made use of the secret passageways honeycombed throughout the palace; only the two of them knew that one of the doors to the passageway system was in her bedroom. She turned to face him, biting her lip as he stared at her.

"You look beautiful," he managed a moment later, his voice hoarse.  
>She blushed, ducking her head. "Thank you."<br>"I got you something," Dafydd said, walking forward.

She looked up at him as he withdrew something from his pocket. He took her hand, opening his fingers to reveal the little treasure. Regina gasped, staring at it. It was a silver ring, a thick band with heavy etching. The ring bore a solitary stone of a deep purple, polished to a high shine; a small silver butterfly lay on the lower right of the stone.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.  
>"I know I can't help you through your Queenmaking," Dafydd said, holding her fingers in his. "But I just wanted you to know I'm here with you."<p>

The breath was knocked out of her body as he slid the ring onto the ring finger of her left hand. Her gaze shot up to his; did he understand what it meant, placing the ring on that finger? He was from Wonderland, and she knew they had no custom of wedding rings, but he had spent enough time around Alice and Tarrant, both of whom wore bands because Tarrant had loved the idea… Did he know what it meant, when a man put a ring on a lady's finger? No, he couldn't possibly know. But the look in his eyes… She wanted it to be real, she realized. Even if Dafydd didn't know the Uplandish engagement customs, Regina did, and oh, how she wished this was real. Ironic, for the Queen of Hearts to have lost her own.

Maybe it was meaningless to him, but it meant a great deal to her. She was Promised now, as far as she was concerned. He'd said that he was hers; well, she was his, and this ring was the symbol and proof of that. They belonged to each other, now and forever. She didn't want any other to stand beside her, or to wear the King's crown.

But…

"Dafydd? Will your Betrothed be here?"

For a moment, Dafydd wasn't even aware that she'd spoken. He was too caught up staring into her eyes; staring, fascinated, as they changed color. He had never seen them turn golden before; the sickly, angry topaz of Madness, yes, but never this bright, glittering golden color. What emotion could that be? He needed to know; her eyes looked beautiful, he wanted to make them stay like this…

The first indication that Regina had spoken was that her eyes dimmed from that glorious shade of golden yellow. He could still see flecks of gold in her irises, but they were fading; they weren't even her usual shade of spring green, but fading to that horrible, hateful shade of mottled gray-green. He hated seeing her sad… Wait. What had made her so unhappy, and how did he fix it [and hopefully make her eyes go golden again]?

Then the words she'd spoken made it through his ears and burrowed into his brain, chasing each other around until they coalesced and found some form of meaning. Even when he'd sussed out what she'd said, though, it made no sense. What in the name of blessed Underland…?

"I'm not Betrothed," he said, frowning.  
>Regina's brow furrowed in confusion. "But I thought… Niall said… He told me you'd been Betrothed, to Afanen."<p>

Dafydd blinked, his confusion only worsening. Niall had told Regina that Dafydd was Betrothed? Why in all the blessed lands of Underland would he tell her about that? His Betrothal had been over years ago; Niall had been the one to formally dissolve it. And thank heavens, too. The Nazari mated for life; their hearts, once lost, were gone forever. Thank the Fates that Dafydd hadn't actually loved Afanen, as he'd once thought; if he did, he never would have been able to leave her, and then he never would have met Regina.

But why in Absolem's name would Niall bring up Afanen? And, perhaps more importantly, why did Regina care? Did this mean that she cared for him? Or was she trying to get rid of him?

"I was," he admitted, lacing their fingers together. "But it was broken off, long before I even came to Underland."  
>"Oh," Regina said, blushing. "So you… you don't love her?"<p>

Oh goodness, that had been terribly forward of her. It certainly wasn't her business if Dafydd still had feelings for his former Betrothed. Except it was of the utmost importance to her that Afanen was firmly in the past; she didn't care to vie with any rivals, however long ago they may have held Dafydd's affections.

Dafydd shook his head, slightly dizzy from Regina's kaleidoscopic eyes. "No. I don't love her. I never did. She's not coming to Court; she can stay and rot in Tearmunn, for all I care."  
>"Oh," Regina said softly. "That's… that's good."<p>

He nodded slowly, hardly sure of what he was agreeing to. He thought he could be forgiven for his mental distraction; somehow his fingers had slipped from hers, and they stood in a loose embrace, his hands on her waist while hers rested on his chest. Her head had tilted back, and if he shifted only a little, lowered his head only a few inches…

"Regina?"

They gasped and jumped, the alien voice slicing through the private bubble they'd been inhabiting and forcefully grounding them once again in the world. They hastily, awkwardly stepped away from each other, Regina blushing deeply while Dafydd cleared his throat. Alice's eyes swept from one to the other as one delicate eyebrow rose in suspicion.

"It's Time, sweetheart," she said.

Regina nodded, drawing a shaky breath. Dafydd lifted Regina's hand- her left hand- placing a soft kiss to the ring he'd slipped on her finger. Her cheeks flamed once again as he released her hand and withdrew, walking down the hallway and leaving Alice and Regina alone.

Alice said nothing, instead silently scrutinizing her daughter. Under her mother's gaze, Regina flushed, her gaze dropping to her hands- more specifically, to the ring now weighing down her finger. Alice's gaze followed Regina's, and she stared at the ring, her mind reeling. Was that… was it possible that Regina…?

"Congratulations, darling," Alice managed to choke out, stepping forwards.  
>"Wha-? Oh. Oh, no, Mama," Regina stammered, clenching her fist and hiding it in her skirt. "It's not what you think. I'm not… We're not engaged," she forced herself to say. "Dafydd doesn't think of me in that way."<br>"Are you sure?" Alice asked, with her customary tact and discretion. "He couldn't take his eyes off you."  
>Regina's cheeks flamed, but she shook her head regretfully. "He just wanted me to know he would be with me through the Queenmaking, that's all."<p>

Alice raised a silent eyebrow. She knew that Regina was an innocent- after all, her daughter had been raised in the Upland, and by Lady Ascot no less. It was entirely possible that Regina had no comprehension of what young men were like when they were in love. Fates, Alice had spent five years after her adventures dithering about whether or not Tarrant harbored affections for her.

But on the other hand, Regina absolutely adored love stories. The doomed romances of Antony and Cleopatra or Lancelot and Guinevere, the absolute partnership of Albert and Victoria or Justinian and Theodora. For a girl who so adored romances, she seemed to be completely oblivious to her own. Could Regina truly not see how hopelessly besotted Dafydd was?

Still, if Regina couldn't see it, it wasn't Alice's place to point it out. Alice wouldn't have appreciated anyone intruding on her relationship with Tarrant, and she was well aware that this was one of the areas in which mother and daughter were the same. Regina had plenty of time to work this puzzle out for herself.

"Yes, well," Alice finally said. "At any rate, it's time."  
>Regina nodded, drawing a deep breath. "Mama? Will you… will you walk me there?"<br>Alice smiled, walking forward and weaving her arm through her daughter's. "Of course I will."

Regina smiled tremulously, leaning on Alice as they walked out the door and down the hall. For a few moments, all was silent save for the swishing of their skirts and the soft click of their heels on the parquet floors. Regina glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. They hadn't discussed the Outlands yet. Perhaps they never would. But before Regina went through this Queenmaking, she wanted to at least acknowledge that it had happened, that Alice had been there when Regina had given up hoping that she would ever matter to her mother.

"I never thanked you, for going into the Outlands to find me," she said softly.  
>"Of course I went," Alice said, halting them to look Regina squarely in the face. "I know I haven't been the greatest mother in either world, but you are my daughter. I lost you once, Regina, and I should have done something about it then. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she said regretfully. "I lost my chance to be your mathair; I let you slip through my fingers."<p>

Regina bit her lip. She hadn't intended to open that particular can of worms. She and Alice had come to an uneasy truce concerning the topic of Regina's abduction into the Aboveground, and Regina hadn't especially wanted to reopen the issue. However, now that they'd brought it up…

How exactly did Regina feel about that situation now? Did she still resent the fact that she'd been taken away from her homeland and abandoned in a foreign world? Yes. She probably always would harbor some anger about that. But did she still blame Alice for not rescuing her? Was it really Alice's fault? Underland Herself had decreed that Regina must be taken away; how could Alice fight against the Spirit of Underland? And Alice had gone Mad after losing her daughter; it wasn't as though she had continued living as if nothing had changed. Her entire life had been ruined, too. And as distant and hesitant as Alice had been upon Regina's return home, Regina hadn't been any better, had she? She had laid so much blame on Alice's shoulders, when in fact Alice was just as much a victim as Regina had been…

"I may not have need of a Mummy to guide and protect me," Regina said hesitantly, shyly looking up at Alice. "But I have great need of you. I need my Mama."  
>"I'm here," Alice immediately said. "I'm right here."<p>

Regina closed her eyes against the tears as she melted into Alice's embrace. Oh, finally…

She had always wondered what it would be like, to be held safe in her mother's arms. She had never thought it would be possible; she had given up, thought that given her and Alice's temperaments they would never be more than distant acquaintances. But now, cradled in her mother's love… perhaps they could forge a loving relationship, after all.

"Come on, sweetheart," Alice murmured, kissing Regina's forehead. "We're late."  
>Regina's lips quirked in amusement. "The ceremony can't start without me."<p>

Though she was ecstatic to have her mama there, as they walked down the hallway towards her destiny Regina was seized with an intense wish to have Dafydd with her. With every step, Regina's heart beat a little faster, her pulse roared in her ears, and her breath grew a little shakier. Could she do this? She had been preparing for months, but was it enough? Was she ready? Would Underland accept her? Or would she be obliterated for attempting a Queenmaking when she wasn't ready?

Regina swallowed hard as they paused before the double doors that would open into the depths of the castle. She closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath and clenching her left hand in a fist, feeling Dafydd's ring on her finger. He was waiting for her behind those doors; he would give her the strength to get through this.

With a deep breath, Regina let go of Alice, and pushed open the double doors to meet her fate.

* * *

><p>Considering how important the Queenmaking ceremony was, it was somewhat surprising to realize that it was taking place in the deepest point of the castle. The chamber was small, with barely enough room to fit the six people allowed to be present. The room was utterly empty, apart from the large cornerstone that jutted out from the rest of the wall, and the large, arched Door which had stood on this spot for as long as Crims had been a country. Regina had already passed through the Door once before, when she was introduced to the Heart; when construction had begun on the castle, Regina had ordered that the cornerstone be laid and the entire castle be built around the Door.<p>

Regina had no attention to spare for the three other Queens who stood in the room, and after a long glance her attention was diverted even from Dafydd. All of her focus transferred to the last figure in the room. He was ancient; tall, but stooped with age. His hair and beard were both snow white, and fell to his knees. He dressed in elaborate floor-length robes, and leaned his weight on his carved staff. His eyes were covered with a white film; the man was blind to everything but keys and locks. This was the Keymaster, the Guardian of the Doors.

"Well now," he said in his wizened voice. "The new Queen, is it?"  
>"Yes, sir," Regina said uneasily.<br>"Well, we'll let the Heart have a look at you and decide if She'll take you," the Keymaster nodded.

The old man reached into a leather pouch at his waist, withdrawing a single brass key. Turning, he bent over, fitting the key into the lock and opening the Door. Regina shivered as a chill gust of wind blew out of the Door; surely that was a little melodramatic? The Keymaster turned back around, placing the key into Regina's hand.

"Guard it well," he said solemnly, before motioning her towards the Door.

Regina closed her fingers around the key, her breath catching in her throat as she stared into the blackness beyond the threshold. This was it; it was Time. She glanced to her right, catching Dafydd's gaze. One corner of his mouth quirked in a smile; she clenched her fist again, focusing on the weight of his ring. Then she nodded, and stepped through the Door, which slammed shut behind her.

_Mine mine mine you have returned to me…_

_Yours… I am here…_

_You are Mine…_

_I am Yours…_

_You are my Heart…_

_You are Mine…_

_Yours…_

_Always Yours…_

_Don't leave Me…_

_Never…_

_My Heart…_

_Mine…_

She gasped as a great rush of wind pushed her backwards, forcing her out of the absolute blackness and back into the light. She tripped, falling backwards, breathless and sightless; she dragged in a lungful of air as she was caught by strong, familiar arms. The Door slammed Itself shut, and all was quiet.

"Is it over?" Regina asked breathlessly, shaking in Dafydd's arms.  
>"It's done," Mirana nodded as Dafydd steadied Regina on her feet.<p>

Regina raised a hand to place on her head, but her fingers brushed against cool metal and smooth stone. Eyes widening, she plucked the crown from her head and stared at it. It was made of gold, with large oval amethysts. It was beautiful; everything she could have dreamed of in a crown. Reverently, she set it back on her head, reveling in its weight. By the Flowers, she was a Queen.

"Congratulations, my dear," Mirana said, stepping forward to hug Regina.

Regina smiled as she hugged her aunt. She couldn't believe it; she'd done it. Now there was only one thing left…

Drawing a deep breath, Regina stepped away from Mirana. "In the presence of my fellow Queens and before the Heart of Crims and the Spirit of Underland, I, Regina of Crims, hereby take the White Vow," she said formally. "I vow never to harm any living creature. I choose a bloodless path."

Regina gauged her fellow Queens' reactions to her announcement. Queen Lamia nodded her encouragement; Queen Alice appeared surprised; Queen Mirana beamed serenely. Regina closed her eyes, raising her hands as she felt the air becoming heavy with a Presence. The others felt it, she knew; how could the Queens help but be aware of the Spirit of Underland?

Regina opened her eyes, watching in uneasy fascination as droplets of red appeared on her palms. She swallowed, fighting back her nausea as she stared at the blood, knowing it to be not her own. It was Taran's blood, Stayne's blood, and Underland was leaching it from her hands. Finally, the blood flew off her hands, coalescing into a ball midair before shimmering and disappearing with a soft pop. Then a soft breeze curled through the windowless room, a whispered voice echoing through the air.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU DO, SHE OF CRIMS? STRONGER QUEENS THAN YOU HAVE BEEN KILLED BECAUSE OF TAKING THIS VOW, OR FOUND THEMSELVES UNABLE TO RULE EFFECTIVELY. KNOWING THIS, DO YOU STILL WISH TO MAKE THIS VOW, WHICH CAN NEVER BE UNDONE?

"I understand," Regina said faintly. "And I am certain."

SO BE IT. WHO STANDS TO PROTECT THE QUEEN OF CRIMS?

"I do," Dafydd said, his voice hoarse as he stepped forward to stand beside Regina.

DO YOU ACCEPT THIS CHAMPION, SHE OF CRIMS?

"I do," Regina replied, slipping her hand into Dafydd's.

SO BE IT. BE THEN BOUND, EACH TO THE OTHER, TO STAND TOGETHER IN ALL THINGS AND AT ALL TIMES. MAY HE PROTECT HER UNTO DEATH; MAY SHE NEVER GIVE HIM NEED TO DEFEND HER.

* * *

><p>They walked through the silent marble halls of Isla Affalin, he keeping one step behind her. The only sounds were the soft swish of her skirts, and their shoes clicking gently against the white marble floor. The hall was dim, lit only by starlight and a periodic brace of candles on the wall, but that didn't bother her; she didn't need much light to find her way down to the grand ballroom.<p>

If she closed her eyes, Regina could almost imagine that she was in Marmoreal, walking towards the ball that would officially re-introduce her to Underland as the Azure Princess of Witzend. But she wasn't in Marmoreal, and she would never answer to that title again. She was in her own land, and she was a Queen.

Leferidae had spared no expense for her inaugural ball, she understood. There were decorations, live butterflies fluttering overhead, and an orchestra who would play all evening long. There would be dancing until the midnight supper, and then more dancing until dawn. This was to be Regina's official introduction to her Court, and Leferidae wanted to ensure that it would be a smashing success. She had gratefully left him to it; Regina herself had spent the day at the mercy of Arianrhod Hightopp, her clanswoman and new Court Clothier.

At least she was a vision of beauty, she thought idly. She regretted that she'd had to change out of her absolutely beautiful Queenmaking dress, but at least the ball gown Arianrhod had designed was almost as beautiful. The dress was violet of course, one-shouldered, clinging to her torso and thighs before flaring out at her knees in an explosion of soft ruffles; each ruffle was edged with a wide ribbon of sky blue. The gown had been paired with an abundance of sparkle- a confection of silver swirls and curlicues, studded with amethysts, around her neck, with matching bracelets around each wrist and in her ears, all of it complementing yet somehow diminished against her crown. And the crown, in turn, dimmed in importance when compared to the ring she still proudly wore on her finger. Regina scarcely recognized herself, and yet this was absolutely herself; this was the destiny she had been moving towards her entire life.

The ball had already begun, she knew. Leferidae wanted her entrance to be a spectacle; he wanted everyone- all the guests from the other queendoms, and the members of Regina's new Court- to be stunned by her entrance. Hence the silence of the halls she walked through; everyone was already in the ballroom, waiting for her.

She came to a stop outside the double doors, anxiety and anticipation warring in her veins. Behind those doors was her future; the next chapter in a life that was so far removed from who she had been half a year ago that she wondered if she had somehow fallen into someone else's existence. What new adventures waited for her behind these doors? Would she succeed as a Queen? Did her future shine as brightly as it had six months ago?

She jerked out of her ruminations as gentle fingers slid beneath her chin. Her head was gently turned, and she found herself looking into Dafydd's eyes, drawing strength from his faint smile and his commanding presence.

"Breathe, dearbadan-de," he whispered. "Everything's going to be alright."

She smiled at him faintly and nodded. Yes, he was right. Everything would be alright; they would make everything alright. She lifted her head until her chin was parallel with the floor. Whatever awaited her, she wouldn't find it by cowering behind closed doors. She was the daughter of the Blue Queen and Sapphire King of Witzend, the niece of the High Queen of Underland. She was the daughter of two Champions, and had been a Champion herself. It had never been in her to back down from a challenge, and it never would be. Her muchness wouldn't allow it.

Nodding to her Fearail guards to open the doors, she lifted her skirts and stepped forwards as her Royal Page, a Labrador named Wagtail, presented her.

"Announcing Her Majesty Regina Miraget Praecordia, the Plum Queen of Crims! And His Grace the Queen's Champion, the Duke of Annwyn."

She paused on the balcony inside the doors as the entire room bowed or curtsied to her. When they rose, she dipped into a graceful curtsey before descending down the grand staircase.

As she reached the floor, Leferidae signaled to the musicians. Her smile growing, Regina walked to the dance floor. She knew what the guests were expecting of her. They wanted to see her dancing with a Prince or a Duke, or even one of her Council members; anyone to announce who she might consider to be her King. And Regina had an answer for them.

Smiling prettily, Regina dipped into a curtsey, extending one hand in command to Dafydd.

They had argued about this all afternoon, as they prepared for the ball. Dafydd had insisted that his place as her Champion was to stand in the background, on the alert for threats to her safety. Tonight was a prime moment for a would-be assassin to attack her; how could Dafydd intercept any potential enemies if he was reduced to being a guest at the ball? Regina had glared and said that yes, he was her Champion, sworn to protect her from all enemies, and that included people she didn't want to dance with. He had rolled his eyes, but he couldn't argue with her logic, and so here he stood, armed only with a number of throwing daggers hidden on his person as he swept Regina off into a waltz.

The dance was a powerful political message, one understood by everyone in the ballroom. Woe to any man who would wish to court the Plum Queen; to win her heart he first had to pass the approval of her Outlandish Champion.

This, at least, was the message that most of the guests digested. A few people, however, gleaned entirely different ideas from this dance. Across the ballroom, the gaze of the White Queen of Marmoreal caught that of the Blue Queen and Sapphire King of Witzend. Gazes met, information was exchanged, slight nods given in agreement as each drew the same conclusion.

It had been made perfectly clear earlier in the day, when Dafydd had made his Champion's Vow. Not that he had made any gestures, or said anything untoward. No, to all eyes the ceremony had been perfectly normal. But there had been a Look in the young Hightopp's eyes, some sort of strange connection and understanding that shimmered between the Champion and his Queen. That he was hers, that she was his… Why, they hadn't needed the Vow at all; they were Bonded more thoroughly than Mirana had ever seen.

That same sense of bonding was present now, as they danced. Goodness, they couldn't take their eyes off each other; they scarcely needed the music, so in tune with each other they were. The slightest touch, the faintest push, and they moved as perfectly as though they were melded together.

Did they realize it? Did they understand what they had entered into? Somehow, Mirana didn't think so. They were Bonded, assuredly, but they had no formal understanding; they had not declared themselves, but they Knew, as surely as Mirana knew herself to be Bound to Kalen.

As she watched them dance, though, she revised her opinion. Regina may not yet understand, but Dafydd surely did. He might try to deny to himself, might attempt to step back and be content with the bond of Queen to Champion… but deep down, he Knew. And judging by the look on his face as he guided Regina through the steps of the dance, he would wait an eternity; however long it took, until he held her by right instead of duty. The newly-crowned Plum Queen may have given the message that any would-be suitors would have to first pass through her Champion. The newly-titled Duke of Annwyn, however, was sending a different message altogether. Well, not so much a message as a warning to any who would try to take her away from him. She was his, and he was hers, and woe to he who tried to rip them apart.

How did Alice and Tarrant feel about that, Mirana wondered. They had only recently been given their daughter back; how did it feel to know that there was only so long they would have before they lost her again?

The dance ended slowly, the musicians as unwilling to stop playing as the lone couple on the dance floor was to stop moving together. However, eventually the dance did have to end. Dafydd and Regina stood looking at each other, bound by the music and their own magnetic gazes. He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the ring he'd placed on her finger, before he walked away. Other couples flitted out to the dance floor, and Regina immediately appropriated the hand of her leonine Guardian before anyone else could ask for her hand.

From that moment on, Regina didn't sit once all night. Count after Duke after Lord led her out to dance, each wanting their turn to impress the new Queen. Regina moved blissfully through it all, enjoying a night of celebration. Tomorrow the work would begin; tomorrow would come the challenges and trials of queenship. For tonight, though, she need only dance.

Slowly, people came to bow to Regina and withdraw for the evening. The night wore on, and the crowd began to thin out as more and more people withdrew to their beds. Finally, Regina and Dafydd stood alone in the ballroom, standing at one of the towering windows and staring out into the pre-dawn light.

"I almost wish the day wouldn't come," Regina sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Everything's so perfect tonight, and I'm so afraid that when it's time to stop celebrating and start actually being a queen I'll be such a disappointment-"

Dafydd laid a finger over her lips, stemming the flow of words. When she lifted her gaze to his, she shivered at the intensity of his focused gaze.

"Don't say another word like that," he admonished her. "You aren't going to fail. You're going to be brilliant." Slowly, he lowered his hand, smiling faintly. "And if you're going to keep doubting yourself, I'll just have to spin you around in circles until you can't think anymore."

She let loose a startled laugh as he grabbed her hand, jogging to the center of the ballroom and spinning her about before she had time to think of protesting. Her laughter increased as he whipped her around, spinning her into a lively, dizzying waltz, moving her so quickly she had no time to focus on anything other than keeping up with him. Their laughter mingled and floated up, soaring towards the ceiling as the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon and illuminated the castle and the countryside.


End file.
